


In Fair Manchester We Lay Our Scene - Sterek

by deathbyfanfiction



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: :(, College Student Derek, College Student Stiles, Derek hates football, Derek is not a wolf, F/F, Football, Football team rivalry, I couldn't make the sheriff abusive, I needed a bad guy for his father, I'll try and write Scott in later, M/M, Melissa is Stiles's Mum, Melissa is battered wife, Modern Romeo and Juliet, Short Chapters, Sorry Melissa, Stiles is a footballer, Young adult Sterek, more tags in notes, no Scott, no supernatural, set in England, sterek au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-05-03 09:46:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5286029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathbyfanfiction/pseuds/deathbyfanfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The boys in Derek’s class were often mean skinny guys like Stiles, but if they could have seen the boy in front of him now there was no doubt they would have been in awe. The routine was perfect, a seamless show of football skills that would have made any professional jealous"</p><p>Stiles loved football. There was little he wouldn't do to take the place he was being offered at university for a full board sports scholarship. Getting away from his abusive dad certainly sweetened the deal too. If he only knew his mum would be okay if he left, he would have been away months ago.<br/>Of course, he didn't factor in that college boy Derek would be dropping into his life; the very reason he wanted to get away, drawing them together.<br/>It's out of Stiles' hands</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. - Allison

_**“On the 21st of March 2015, while the match between Liverpool and Manchester United was occurring, a fight broke out among supporters come to watch the game. Fans broke free of the barriers to storm the pitch in effort to reach the opposing team to initiate a fight. While officials were first unable to prevent the discourse, visiting Liverpool fans were removed from the stadium before the violence could escalate to uncontrollable levels.** _  
_**This is not the first time that the two teams have clashed during a game, with Liverpool and Manchester United having the most intense rivalry in modern times. Even the managers of the clubs, Hale and Stilinski of Manchester and Liverpool respectively are known to have had personal disputes. No one was badly hurt, though a few were removed from the grounds under arrest for disturbing the peace. The officials have said that this is a warning, and that if this is to happen again, there will be a large fine placed on both teams, which could negatively affect the season for all involved.”** _

  


Allison closed the paper with a sigh. Her friend had enough to worry about without another fight for his mother to deal with. While it was cool that Thalia had made manager of the Liverpool team, she’d become so stressed lately, dealing with the animosity against their Manchester United rivals. Not to mention the task of dealing with her lovesick son, Derek, who of course had fallen for the least attainable girl in the whole city. The boy could get by on his looks, which made him unused to rejection. To be honest, Allison couldn't see why Jenifer would reject him so completely like she had; it was very unnecessary. 

Though not present at the time of said rejection, she'd heard it had gone something along the lines of a smug and cocky Derek sauntering up to a group of giggling girls, without a doubt in the world, only to be shot down. She could imagine his face falling in shock. He'd been building it up in his mind ever since, and had become almost unbearable. The object of his desire, pulled away from his grasp, and he wasn't taking it well.

Maybe anyone on the outside couldn't spot it; he wasn't the most animated of characters at the best of times, a solemn exterior often mistaken for moodiness, or a lack of interest - he didn't have a lot of friends. Maybe the reason he and Allison had been drawn together was because they recognised each other in themselves. Pretty quiet herself, Allison was also frequently overlooked by her peers, the only exception besides being the most surprising one: Lydia Martin, aka Queen Bee. The three of them had found themselves in the most unlikely group, even if Lydia was often exasperated by Derek's lack of enthusiasm, and Derek by Lydia's over exuberance, Allison could always pull them back. She knew they loved each other deep down, even if Lydia didn't have the time for Derek's pining over his lost love at the moment. Allison knew they'd work it out.

She should go and find him. 

She knew exactly where to go. He’d taken to lying in a certain field of late, on a hill whose one side was overlooking the massive city, and other side had it’s back to all of the lights, facing miles of country. Allison has to admit that it was a wonderfully picked place to ride out the heartache. She'd taken her car out around to the outskirts of the city, parked the sleek black vehicle and trekked up the hill. Curls flying everywhere, her chilly fingers gripping the loose collar of her leather jacket, Allison braved the wind to get to her friend.

When she approached, Derek was facing the opposite direction, lying still on the ground resting on arms held behind his head. He too was wearing his leather jacket, though it was only zipped halfway up his chest, barely covering him from the cold. As Allison sat down, he didn’t seem surprised. 

“You didn’t need to come out here you know Ali” Derek sighed without turning. Great, this was going to be a fun talk. The famous monotonous voice of hopelessness.  


“Thought you might need some company” She replied as warmly as she could, getting comfortable on the ground against her back.

“You know that you can’t help me when I get like this. You don’t need to babysit just because I’m having an off day.” At least he’s self-aware she joked lamely to herself.

“Maybe it would help you take your mind off her to get back home? Help your mum out with some stuff? You know she needs you right now” 

“What?” At this Derek turned to face his friend, not used to being lectured. His thick black brows knotted together in confusion.

“After today you can't expect her to handle everything alone?.” She cut off abruptly. Realisation dawned on Allison that Derek had no idea what he was talking about.

  


Damn. 

  


Coming here with the intention of cheering him up and only bringing him more to be upset about.

“Allison, has something happened at the game today?” Derek asked, quietly, knowing the answer was yes.

“Liverpool lost…And then there was a fight in the stadium” Allison saw Derek’s face drop at the news, even further than it already was. She felt awful, but he needed to know. She knew she was right to tell him, as she watched as the boy pulled himself up from the ground and wiped the grass from his trousers, moving like an actual human for the first time since the conversation began. 

"It’s just football. They’ve got no idea how much of a pain it is to deal with; they’re just bothered about getting a punch before they’re kicked out. What’s the point?” he asked dejectedly, mumbling, ashamed of his selfishness.

“Aren’t you a delight? Look, we’ll go over to yours, see if your mum needs any help. If she doesn’t, I’m taking you out. A night on the town, it’ll be fun!” Seeing her friend’s pained look she continued with her valiant effort. “Come on. When was the last time we went out? When was the last time you weren’t miserable about Jenifer, or worrying about your mum, or cursing the name of football? 

Yep, it’s settled. We’re coming for you Manchester!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to put this tag in the main tags because of the major spoiler, so scroll on if you don't want to see it, but I should probably definitely include this somewhere.  
> ***********SPOILER*************  
> -Major Character Death  
> (it is a Romeo and Juliet AU after all)  
> ********************************


	2. - John

The football captain of Manchester United stood on the sideline of the pitch, admiring the fruition of his training of the next generation of footballers, in the form of an agile and athletic seventeen year old who was dodging, dribbling, and finally scoring on the pitch in front of him. John's years of experience with the old and young players alike had taught him to zoom in on potential like Stiles', and with the boy's place at Manchester Sports Academy all but secured, his work to hep him achieve all of his possibilities was going well. He just needed to convince his father.

Theo Stilinski swore his little guy was too young to be leaving home, even though 'his little guy' wasn't of the same mind.

Stiles Stilinski had been playing in Manchester under 18s FC for a long time, years, having gotten in as the youngest on the team thanks to his skill. Over that time, he and his coach had developed a close bond over their shared hobby. 

This Saturday morning, like every other one, after John had provided the team with the run down of the training for that day, after all equipment was set out along the white lines of the pitch, and all the players were in place, ready for the game, Stiles turned up at last. How late he was depended on the mood of the sullen father figure, always walking slowly behind his hyperactive child. Today it was an impressive 40 minutes.

Mostly it was the same old crowd who turned up to watch the young boys play, but when there was the occasional new face, it always enquired discreetly to the adjacent person, how odd that such different people should arrive together. With hushed whispers and stolen glances, the reply would be that they were father and son, and more staring followed.

Arms filled with his oversized training bag, and football shoes which he hadn't managed to change into on the way, Stiles jogged onto the pitch to meet the stern trainer, too embarrassed to lie his way out, instead only managing to mumble an apology before retreating back to the stands again to sort out his kit.

Though John had constantly been having stern talks with Stiles about tardiness at the beginning, he realised eventually that it wasn't the boy's fault. That if it were up to him, he wouldn't choose to arrive, face burning with shame, half an hour late and piss off all of his team. It was wholly the fault of his father. On bad days, though these were rare, he refused to take his son at all, and Stiles was forced to stay home.

From the 3rd row back, his father took a seat. His knee length, black coat covered his thighs, and his black leather gloved hands were slipped into the pockets. Always, he chose to sit with as many rows as possible between him and any other parent. He had no other means of entertainment, not even choosing to bring a book, or at any point seeking boredom relief from a mobile phone, like most others did in those long, cold, two hours. Stilinski instead chose to sit, back very straight against the seat, staring towards the pitch: his expression not interested, or amused, but calculating, and ever suspicious. 

The other parents lost interest after a while, turning their attention to the practice in front of them, sparing a cheer when their child made a particularly impressive sliding tackle or goal, or save, an experience Stiles never had the pleasure of receiving. He was content on basking the glowing praise of the coach, and the admiring parents, always plastering on a goofy grin, as he did when he just managed to weave his way through three skilled defenders alone. A younger Stiles might've looked to his father for approval, but the older one knew there would be none, and purposefully avoided looking at the stands.

Back to the practice at hand, Stiles refocused. He was just forward from the goalkeeper's box, and who was was holding the ball in his hands. The other team was wise to Stiles' skill, and had wisely placed two defenders to mark him. But Stiles was clever. He and the goalkeeper had an understanding: Stiles gives the nod, and the ball is given to him, even if the pass is seemingly impossible, the nod means that he can get to it, and everyone wants Stiles on the ball.

The goalkeeper moves to face left, and pulls his arm back, ready for rolling to his other defender. Having been fooled by the faux throw before, Stiles' markers remained tight to him. With a powerful throw, the ball left the hands, and rolled right through the middle of all of the players; and Stiles was ready.

Speed wasn't his strong point - he didn't need it thanks to his skill. But already knowing the routine helped him reach the ball before anyone else. Within seconds he had possession. He also had the attention of the rest of the field, both players and observers. He had a few seconds before the defenders descended on him.

He glanced up. Two teammates on the wings, exactly behind the opposition. Fantastic. He was covered on all sides. It looked like he was going to be taking them all on by himself.  
He didn't want to make his team felt like he wasn't utilising their skills, but at times like this, he had no choice but to power through. Adrenaline rushed through his system.

John steeled himself on the sidelines.

He decided on a straight run, keeping as central to the field as he could. It would make him an easier target for interception, but it would mean a shorter distance to cover. There was a slim player moving in, but as soon as he got close enough, Stiles tricked him with a fake pass movement. One down.

Two more had abandoned their markers to move between Stiles and the goal. He'd reached the halfway line, and it wouldn't be the first time he'd scored from that distance. But not this time. The first player came running towards him, and didn't slow down. Stiles figured he was going for a slide tackle and adjusted his course. His intuition served him well, as the boy slipped uselessly over empty grass. The second player was stood behind the first, the second line of defence it seemed. The stance he had taken made him easy to nutmeg, and Stiles was through.

To Stiles’ relief they still didn't grasp how much he was capable of, as this was where the defending stopped, the others were still catching up from the other end of the field, never expecting all three would fail. It meant he had enough time to line up a shot properly. He dribbled through the last few metres and arrived at the end of the box.

Conversation had already ceased at the sides of the pitch. John stood with furrowed brows, watching very intently. His team were smiling like they already had the goal.

No pressure then.

He kept the ball moving beneath his feet, balancing up the benefits of playing mind tricks with the goalkeeper with the possibility of a tackle. He spied another striker at the other end of the box. Stood silently but ready. Yes, he had a better view of the goal, but after that run, Stiles needed the glory, and the other striker understood. The boy ran forward, like they thought Stiles would pass to them, fooling the keeper, and when he'd moved just enough, Stiles drew back, and kicked.

It cut through the sky, spinning into the top corner, far away from the flustered goalie.

It didn't matter that it was only a practice, everyone erupted into cheering. His team came running over to ruffle his hair, and slap him on the back.

"WOOOOO!!" Stiles bellowed nearly hysterically, releasing some leftover adrenaline. Playing it cool was not a skill he possessed. He beamed at his coach, who's eyes were crinkled up in laughter at Stiles' outburst, like the other parents around him. John gave a short glace behind him to confirm that Theo had not cracked a smile, but was just watching everyone else.

The opposition had finished their grudging applause quite soon after, and were in position to begin again. Stiles and his teammates ran to join them. The whistle blew, and they played on.

John was very impressed. He confided in his co-captain Bobby Finstock once again that he wanted to see Stiles on John's official Manchester United team as soon as there was some sort of opening. Despite Finstock's preferred method of training of yelling verbal abuse at his players, he too couldn't fault Stiles for his run. 

Before planning for Stiles to join the paid adult's team though, John had to get the older Stilinski on side, however unpleasant an experience it was to talk to him.

Leaving Bobby in charge of the pitch, John took a break to make his way up to the stands. He stood in the aisle, waiting for Theo to vaguely acknowledge his presence. Of course, he did not. So he began to make his way through the upturned seats, and pulled one down right next to Theo. If John hadn't been looking for it, he would never have noticed the subtle raise of eyebrows or thining of lips. It pleased him that he was made uncomfortable. Theo just had the kind of personality you wish you could punch, so John took any opportunity to even slightly aggravate him.

Used to the mind games they played every week, both sat in silence. John knew of course, that he would be first to break; the other man has shown for months now that he will choose to sit in total silence for hours, so instead, John was merely biding his time. He waited until Stiles once again outperformed all of his peers once more and scored another goal, to say

"Do you not see how brilliant he is?"

The words hung, his powerful and deep southern American drawl impacting in the quiet. They were completely ignored.

"Mr Stilinski, you do realise that as soon as he is old enough he will be leaving home, and you will not be able to stop him? All you're doing now is leaving him with bitter memories of someone who would not let him pursue his dream." John stated calmly. His voice was bereft of emotion, as he knew it would become too angry if he let his feelings get in the way of this negotiation.

How the father interacted with his son was unsettling, and brought on a paternal kind of concern. The way he refused to support Stiles' passion, going as far as preventing attendance to practices was an alien practice which he’d never seen before. That was why John was so serious about fighting for this for him. Unexpectedly, Theo actually had a reply for him,

“I’m running out of polite ways to tell you we’re not interested.” He spoke, evenly, tone low and voice quiet. Authoritative.

'Geez', John thought, 'if this is polite, I don’t want to see angry…’ but outwardly he didn’t let himself be daunted.

“Are you sure that’s what he thinks?” He asked, knowing the Theo could see the same happy, flushed face below them, weakening his argument.

“He’s too young to know what he wants.”  
“He’s too old for you to be making the decisions about his future.” At this John became aware how intrusive he was being into the man life who he barely knew. There was just cause, but his luck with Theo’s replies were going to run out very soon.

“I really don’t think it’s your place to tell me how to raise my child” Theo murmured, for the first time looking John in the face. There was a hint of a dangerous smile and the edges of his mouth, as if incredulous that John would even suggest it. John wanted to instinctively move away, but he instead rose to the challenge.

“Why don’t we ask him?” He said, replying with a equally even stare, if a little softer. Unfortunately, this was where Theo shut down. Continuing to stare at John, he left a pause before rising to his feet.

“We actually need to be leaving. We are hosting a celebration of Manchester United’s victory. There are preparations to made.” He finished, pointedly glaring at John, waiting for him to move so he could leave. For someone who seemed so bored watching his son play, Theo was one of the most avid supporters to be found. An odd clash with his uncaring personality, but everyone must have a hobby, John supposed. His love of Manchester United FC must have been why he allowed Stiles to play, a decision that he'd clearly begun to regret. 

Here were two unmovable personalities at odds, neither intending to back down, both unused to anyone challenging their authority. This man had the nerve to come to his training session almost three quarters of an hour late, not support the players, or his own son, speak to him rudely (when he spoke at all), and declare he was leaving early to celebrate a victory that John himself was responsible for (technically his team, but since he coached the team it was the same thing) but not invite him to. He simply could not stand for it. Retaining his calm demeanour like he was so good at, he looked innocently up at Theo and questioned,

“You’re having a party to for my team’s victory? How kind! I would indeed be delighted to attend.”

Though John tried so hard, he couldn’t help but grin at the muted horror on Stilinski’s face, the otherwise expressionless mask, distinctly disgusted that John would be so bold as to so outrightly invite himself into his home when what little relationship they had was so strained already. John was pretty shocked at himself too, but if that was what it took to make the man’s blood boil then it was worth it. Besides, he’d get more of a chance to discuss how to move forward with preparations for entrance to the school with Stiles, and maybe his mother too, so that was another benefit. 

Guessing that Theo wasn’t going to willingly give details of the party, John figured he was sure to find details online: if Theo Stilinski was throwing a party, it was going to have a lot of people going, he’d find the time and place pretty easily, he guessed.

“Guess I should buy some beer then!” he continued, relishing how he’d rendered him speechless.  
“Beer?” Theo asked, in a failed attempt to be retain dignity  
“You can’t arrive at a party without a gift!


	3. - Melissa

She heard the front door slam from upstairs. She wasn’t sure if it was harder than usual, her husband was always in a mood lately. She flinched at the sound, and promptly shook her head at the response. Ashamed. 

She folded the last item of Stiles’ clothing and set it down on the sideboard, black curls bouncing around her face as she lifted her head. Surrounded by the red of the local football team, she resisted the urge to rip the decorations down for reminding her of how stressful tonight was going to be.  
She set her jaw, and plastered on a grin.

“Hello!” She sang, stepping out onto the landing to see the two men who’d just walked in. Simply seeing the thunderous look on her husband was enough to dull her smile a little. Then she saw the mud Stiles had trekked in, which pulled the façade of happiness away completely.

“Stiles! Get your boots off! For goodness’ sake, I just cleaned that floor! And look at your jersey too, it’s filthy. You realise you’re meant to stay on your feet to play football?” She continued flapping about, trying to avoid the look of thunder on her husband’s face beside her.  
Keep talking; don’t give him a reason to start.

“When it gets like this you should really be playing inside. I mean, think of your health! Can’t be good for you all being outside in this now can it? I’ve half a mind to call up that manager of yours and give him a piece of my mind. It’s not his carpets that are suffering is it? And this is summer, I don't want to imagine what winter will be like.” Her voice faded away, losing steam faced with the melancholy demeanour of the usually hyperactive Stiles, which didn’t help to ease the tension in the room, and having stripped him down to his thermal vest, there was no more cause for distraction.

Despite this happening almost every day, Melissa still couldn’t help but wince whenever the man begun to speak.

“Well. Are you not going to ask what’s wrong?” Theo began smoothly, after a short and uncomfortable silence. Without waiting for a reply, he continued.

“That damn John, bothering me again about taking Stiles away to some boarding school for people with no academic future. For months I’ve turned him down, and every week he is back again, relentless. I tell him again, you’re too young,” he gestured vaguely to the boy, but didn’t let the interruption stop his flow of speech, or his pacing round the room observed by his family. “and he expects me to change my mind in a week? Moronic… And now you’ll never guess! He actually invited himself to my party tonight! He just said, to my face, ‘I’m coming over’ with a stupid smirk on his face, like he could embarrass me. Who does he think he is?” Not one to like his pride getting hurt in any way, Melissa knew this had hit him hard.

“I don’t want either of you talking to him.” He said, with a new, authoritative tone. “He has no business here. Maybe if he realises that tonight, I won’t have to be harassed by him every week.” He stilled for a moment to consider this new idea. “Yes, this is a good opportunity. He sees you not caring about it and he’ll back off. Because you don’t care about going there do you Stiles?”

With the last words he advanced on his son and grabbed his upper arm, pulling it towards him a little to make him look up from the floor that had been ever so interesting throughout his whole speech. Faces just inches away from each other, Stiles was completely at the mercy of his father, with Melissa powerless to intervene. Nauseated, she watched on as her son shook his head quickly, still managing to avoid Theo’s eyes. She could see how the powerful hands had a claw grip on his arm, unrelenting in their force. But thankfully he slowly began to uncurl his fingers and with a shove, pushed Stiles back towards her.

“If he comes towards you then you go the other way. You don’t speak… no, you don’t make eye contact with that man. Got it? I will be very angry if I hear you have been talking to him.” He finished. Voice no higher than a murmur, it was at its most dangerous tone.

Melissa almost unconsciously stepped in between her husband and son.

“Yes, we’ve got it don’t worry.” She said, as lightly as she could manage, so as to ease the atmosphere. It didn’t work. “So, haven’t you got a party to organise?” She prodded, very hesitantly.

His eyes were locked on Stiles for a few more seconds, then, with a last glare he straightened himself up, and slowly walked out of the room.

Melissa’s whole body sighed with relief as his presence left them, and she brought her shaking son into her arms as soon as Theo had crossed the threshold. She stroked his hair and held his head like he was a child again, until the tremors slowed.

She thought about how he had changed since he was a kid; ever since he was about 2 years old they’d known he would be a handful. Always breaking something, running somewhere, singing, shouting, playing all day long. All the neighborhood knew Stiles, adults adored him, and he got along with all the children. Melissa remembered sitting on the porch while Stiles just ran up and down the street, for no reason other than to use up some energy, and while some of the older parents looked on with raised brows, she merely laughed with her child, happy he was happy. Theo had been at work that day.

He’d never really been a fatherly type, but he’d gotten so much worse as Stiles had grown.

Distant and cold, no one believed that the two of them were related at all. With the passing of time it seemed more and more like he felt challenged by Stiles’ maturity. Like he could also control his wife and child, but that child was fast becoming a man, and a rival. At times Melissa was thoroughly scared by him. And she knew her son felt the same. She couldn’t keep allowing it.  
Gently, she pulled him out of her arms to face him. She didn’t comment on his red rimmed eyes.

“I’m going to ask you to be brave tonight honey.” She said, easily faking a strong voice. He looked too old for his years, and that hurt for a mother to see.  
“You need to show this, ‘John’, all of your skills. If he wants you on his team, you are getting on that team.” She said matter-of-factly. “I’m going to distract your father if you give me a nod, I promise you he won’t ever know. You’re getting out of here Stiles, do you understand? I’m getting you away from him.”  
She kept going even though Stiles’ face was twisted in shock and fear.

“Mum! You, can’t…” He flapped his hands in distress, trying to find words. They both knew what he was trying to say. He wanted to ask how she could possibly be considering disobeying him. That it was dangerous. His bad moods lasted days, it would be hell if he found out. But they never talked about it. It would make it too real.

All through his life Theo had been what you could call a delicate man. The phrase ‘anger issues’ would spring to the mind of all who had met him. Coming from a family and past with a lot of money and a high status, he’d never had to work for respect, money, jobs or anything else, it was automatically given. People that did have to work for those things were always the ones to bear the brunt of his ferocity when anything went wrong. There were no peers to challenge him, so he did whatever he wanted.  
As he had grown older, the fierceness faded, leaving a more dignified shell. The manipulation began, and instead of angry outbursts there was only cold rage. It began to transfer more and more to home, and any trace of the gentle, if stern, man that Melissa had once known was long gone.

“There’s no confusion here. No pretending that we didn’t understand. If he catches either of us…” He finished darkly, voice cracking just a bit. Just like his mother, Stiles hated to be weak, but the man had a control over them that they couldn’t begin to break.

“Please Stiles. We have to try. We both know if you went for it you could do it. You have a chance!” A chance to escape. A chance to be happy. More of a chance to be a child than you ever did here, Melissa added in her mind.

As if he heard everything unspoken between them, Stiles began to nod. Once more she pulled him close, breathing into his hair, then let him go. He kissed her on the cheek, before he grabbed his equipment bag off the floor and jogged up the stairs to his room. She knew he would stay there for the rest of the day, as was the custom when Theo had been on a rant.

Melissa watched him go, holding out hope that this plan would be the start of changing that.


	4. - Lydia (8:30pm)

Don’t get her wrong, Lydia loved Derek. But Allison was out of order bringing him along tonight.

She’d waited a long time for one of Stilinski’s parties. They were always amazing (mostly because she was at each one). The host loved to flaunt his wealth to anyone that would look his way, and this drew the attention of every young person in the area. Three stories of grandeur was by far enough to accommodate for the hundreds of guests, and Lydia was always going to be one of those guests, she lived for mingling and socialising. At any given gathering you could walk in and head towards the biggest crowd and find Lydia, the centre of the attention of at least five different guys and the focus of the adoration and envy of every girl, flipping her long auburn hair and laughing.

But getting into the right mindset would be difficult to pull off with Derek tagging along through the vital prep period.

Of course, his foul mood was no match for her ability to liven up a room, Lydia thought to appease herself. She’d seemed to have successfully gotten Allison into preparations she noted, while she hummed and reached for the various bottles to spritz up her scent. And yet, her more solemn friend had barely cracked a smile in weeks, which was not at all conducive to the party mood.

The three teenagers had gathered at Lydia’s, thanks to her flat out refusal to be seen at Allison’s devoid-of-all-product bedroom. 

At 20:00 sharp there had been a knock at the door, and Lydia smirked satisfactorily knowing her years of emphasising to Allison the importance of punctuality had paid off. She took a breath and checked the mirror as she passed by to assure herself that there was not a hair out of place, and with a smooth of her dress, opened the ornate door.

The smile immediately fell from her face, to be replaced by furrowed brows. Usually she was able to hide her emotions better than this, but she was truly not amused. Granted, the face of the girl she had been anticipating was indeed smiling up at her from the porch steps, but a few metres behind her stood the surly figure of Derek. Stance wide and arms crossed, the only recognition he gave Lydia was a curt nod, before returning to the aggressive stare he was most known for. 

“What is he doing here?” Lydia whispered, loud enough for Derek to hear even from the supposedly safe distance he was keeping to. Maybe if she was blunt enough about the fact that she didn’t want him there, he would take the ridiculously obvious hint and leave. But to be fair, judging by his demeanour, this was not where he wanted to be either. 

“Lydia…” Allison warned quietly. Pink coloured her cheeks with embarrassment, something which never troubled Lydia. The girl was just too nice! Sure, people would say Lydia was too far the other way, but Allison needed to take some of that strength when it came to dealing with difficult people.

Especially when it came to Derek. At first, when they met, Lydia thought that they liked each other. She never gave it a second thought that they weren’t going to get together, watching them go around school together like they were already a couple. But when the girls became closer after a chance pairing for lab partners, it quickly became apparent that the love between Derek and Allison was far from romantic, and while it was something Lydia would never understand, she could see it ran deep for them both. However, just because she could admire it, didn’t mean she didn’t get annoyed when their co-dependency problems kicked in. 

“He is not coming in here like this Allison” Lydia declared. Her voice may or may not have risen an octave, and her eyebrows were definitely higher than before she opened the door. She was refusing to let Derek rile her up before the important night, but she didn’t need more to think about other than preparing herself.

“Suits me Allison. I’ll see you at school.” Derek muttered, turning down the stairs into the street. Allison just sighed and called after him.

“You’re not going anywhere.” She said, as she grabbed the leather jacket that was disappearing. Allison led him back up to the top of the stairs and gave him a little push, so that he was face to face with Lydia. “He is coming to your party Lydia. He needs this.” Allison stated. It was non-negotiable. That was the benefit of passivity; the few times she decided something, it was taken seriously.

So, like children being scolded by their mother, both Lydia and Derek finished their complaints, and the first moved aside for the other two.

Lydia led the way through to her room, and resumed the work she had started before the interruption. Tens of bottles and cans and tubs and tubes, large and small, empty and full, but each with the lids carefully replaced after use, had been thrown across the massive dressing table, and a chair stood before it, at an angle to invite Lydia back to sit, which she did. She directed Allison to her closet, offended at her current choice of outfit, and Derek to the bed; the other end of the room to Lydia.

The room was very grand, a clear reflection of the wealth that was quickly trickling down from parents. A bright curved lamp hung from the ceiling, doing a good job of illuminating every corner of the massive floor space. Crisp puffed sheets were draped lightly over the thick mattress, atop of a solid wooden bed frame engraved with swirling patterns. Floor to ceiling windows that flooded the space with light in the day were just allowing the very last dregs of evening through the glass, outshined by the artificial glare from within. 

Allison swept across the room to untie the cords to let the curtains fall across the long panes.

Half a staircase twirled around the corner furthest from the door, leading to a platform built into the white wall. On this floor was Lydia's bathroom, consisting of a curved tub, porcelain toilet, and sink. Clean, fluffy towels were folded on the shiny cabinet, next to the piles of unwrapped posh soap, replaced every day by one of the various helps employed by her parents. One noticeable feature of the room was the number of mirrors lining most of the walls of both floors. That was Lydia all over. Another anomaly in the otherwise sleek and fashionable boudoir, was the state of the dresser which took centre stage against the middle of the main wall, further emphasised by a spotlight which had been placed on the wall facing it.  
For an eighteen year old girl the room was unnaturally clean. Anyone would imagine that it had been tidied for a reason.

A reason which did not involve Derek being here.

Sitting at her chair, sweeping one hand deftly through his locks, while the other held a large can of hairspray, Lydia let her eyes wander over to the slim figure of Allison, whose turned back she could see in the mirror. The girl still had her head in Lydia's closet, with the intention of choosing an outfit, and Lydia’s soft gaze fell over her friend. She watched as she drew back to sit on the bed, shirt in hand. She had to muffle a small gasp when Allison lifted the shirt she was wearing over her head to change it, and gleefully allowed herself to admire her thin waist curving with the movement. Mouth slightly agape, she found she was very lost in how the new shirt clung tight to her slim figure, almost a perfect fit, though leaving little to the imagination thanks to the plunging neckline, suiting her all the better for it. The piece was thin and black, which Lydia was sure she would never wear again for fear of ruining the memory of the girl before her in it.

'Pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss'

"Lydia!"

Her head turned, the shout bringing her back to herself. Suddenly she realised that she had been pressing down on the hairspray can in her distracted state, leaving her with some stiff hair and a choking fit.

Totally worth it.

But she'd forgotten that they had company, and that there was no way that company could have missed her staring dreamily at their mutual friend in a very non platonic way.  
But then she remembered that she was Lydia Ariel Martin, and she never did anything by halves; she was sure that Derek already knew about her little crush long before that episode.  
Unless, he was so much out of it that he didn’t even care about it anymore. She glanced over and saw that he hadn’t even raised an eyebrow at the clear idiocy of the infatuated girl. This was really some serious stuff. 

She’d been watching Derick’s doleful eyes and lifeless movements all through the rigorous party rituals that had been systematically carried out (hair, clothes, perfume; aka basically the most important part of the night), and it was the most the two had interacted in weeks. She missed her friend. The guy who would normally be bringing in the beers and the sarcastic quips and the moronic jokes that he researched specifically to annoy Allison. Though Allison was the bridge between the two of them, Lydia and Derek had a lot of fun together. They were very close, or, had been, before Jenifer had come along into his life and he’d withdrawn Lydia and Allison to go and pine after her. Fine, she’d admit it, she was bitter. And hurt, but that was more difficult for the stoic girl to confess to even herself.

But right now, he was here. Everyone she cared about was here, but it wasn’t right yet. Challenge accepted: get Derek happy, and get him to the party. She straightened her back, and her skirt and got up smoothly, even in heels, crossing the room to the bed. She sat down next to him, lose tendrils of hair falling into her face, as she tried to catch the eye of Derek who’s attention was on the floor like it had been all evening.

“Derek.” She said sharply. You could not ignore Lydia, so he looked up.

“You’re going to snap out of it. Okay? Just for tonight. Hey, even just until you walk into the doors of this place. You have been killing my buzz all evening, and despite my dazzling personality I cannot deal with it anymore. So, as your friend, I am asking you, for one night, you forget about Jenifer. And everything with your mum. Forget about football and school and everything else. Allow yourself just one night to remember how to live.”

The most reasonable explanation for Derek’s confused look would be that his most oblivious friend could actually be sensitive for once in her life, but Lydia took the expression as one of wonderment at the wise words that had so helpfully been bestowed upon him.

“Now, you’re going to run into that shower, get some glorious smelling conditioner of mine into your locks, then I’m going to figure out how to get those bangs into a majestic quiff to have all the girls there throwing themselves at you.” Lydia instructed, pushing Derek up the stairs and through her bathroom door, waiting until she heard the sound of water hitting the bathtub before she was satisfied to return to the lower floor and continue with adjusting the masterpiece that was her own hair, focusing on the piece that she had practically glued together with hairspray.

“And you’re going to be quick about it because we’re going to be at their door at half-nine, and I don’t care if I’ve not had time to plan your outfit, in fact, I will drag you there naked if you’re too slow!” She called menacingly through the floor. 

Allison smiled to himself, a soft smile, which Lydia just caught as he turned away. She had to smother a smile of his own, while her insides were melting knowing that she had made Allison happy. Maybe there would be another benefit to helping Derek out tonight.


	5. - Deucalion

Drink in hand, had bobbing to the beat, a little tipsy and with his mates, the college student was having a good night. Though he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was on the receiving end of some nasty glares, and worried stares, he was determined not to let it bother him. The fact that his latest escapade with his gang of five had landed him yet more community service only made him feel more powerful, knowing that everyone around him knew that he was capable of a little destruction. And while he knew he would really earn a status if they knew what else he’d been up too, he was glad that so far, the police hadn’t got wind of the more illegal stuff. For all his bravado he didn’t want to end up in jail.

He guessed his friends must look relatively soft right now, having been drinking for a few hours they’d loosened up from the usual, and combined with the slurred singing and the matching Manchester United football jerseys, they looked positively harmless. Not that anyone else was going to risk getting anywhere near them anyway, as they had been treated to a metre or so around the group which was devoid of people, even despite how overcrowded the room was. Clearly, they were still daunting. Good.

When the current song came to an end, one of the boys him declared in an obnoxiously loud voice that he was going outside for a cigarette, and all of the rest of the boys ducked their heads to search for their own packs and lighters to join him with.

 

“Go on. I’ll be right with you” Deucalion called after the last guy, gesturing to his almost empty plastic cup. He didn’t have to raise his voice far for the deep tone to carry over the people’s heads between them. 

Despite his sudden decrease in muscle power following the departure of his four brawny mates, Duke didn’t feel any less like he owned the room. He stood for a while, just observing the slightly uncomfortable people on the receiving end of the stare, pleased with the reaction, when the front door opening across the room caught his eye.  
Unsure of exactly who it was, but quick to trust the sudden defensive feeling in his gut, he slammed his now drained cup onto the table behind him, seething. 

 

He turned slowly back to the new arrivals. He recognised Lydia as a neutral, with few connections to either Liverpool or Manchester; less of a threat. But Duke didn’t like the way she entered. He recognised the stance of someone who felt like they answered to no one, who was not afraid to take on a whole room, to introduce herself to any besotted guy, and to be able to dance without a care for anyone else’s opinions. He recognised it in her because that was his personality too.

There was a girl next to her that Duke didn’t know. She was quiet, and not nearly as free as her friend, but still able to hold a conversation with the drunk and disorientated guests who stumbled onto her looking for company. She seemed to be more concerned with the boy next to her to be involved in the merriment.

 

That last guy. Duke couldn’t place his face at first, but just seeing it made something seize up inside him. And he’d always been taught to believe in his instincts. Needing a better look he moved closer.

The crowd didn’t part the way he’d expected it to, to his annoyance. But he was too focused on the boy to bother shoving them away. He realised who he was, the minute he was close enough to hear Lydia calling his name. Derek. Derek Hale. Quite possibly the worst person to wander into his domain, at the worst time too. He was the son of his enemy team’s manager. 

How dare that Liverpool supporter show up here? Here, in his territory, after what they did today? Bitter about his loss or not, there was no excuse to come here tonight. He had clearly only come to ruin his uncle’s party, but he was going to stop that before it began. Did they not know who he was? Who his uncle was? 

Every gang had a purpose, and the one Duke belonged to, happened to be most interested in protecting the name of the Manchester United football club. That was their main job, their single role. Young boys with a love of the sport had grown into muscly men who were just looking for a reason to use their strength. They would say it was noble. Everyone else thought it sad. The recent rising of the rivalry between them and Liverpool had made their jobs a lot more exciting. They now had a single person to hate above all others - the manager of Liverpool, Thalia Hale. And now, her next of kin had walked into the middle of the gang that would have his blood.

Fueled with adrenaline, he maneuvered away from his path towards Derek, and towards the back exit, to his friends who would be happy to help him deal with this new development, but he was suddenly cut off.

 

“Where are you taking that face of thunder my boy?” Boomed the voice of his uncle Theo, who appeared from no where, but soon was stood close enough to the raging Deucalion for him to smell the disgusting stench of liquor on his breath. 

Duke cursed inwardly that he had been so unlucky as to cross paths with the man he'd successfully managed to avoid all evening. Taking one look at his face to see the sunken red eyes, and face that was for once morphed into a smile and correctly deduced that the man was pissed off his face. Not a rare occurrence, in fact, Duke barely ever saw him sober. The few times he did, it was not a fun experience. When he wasn't being completely silent and boring, he was demanding respect he hadn't earned from people that barely knew him. His father and uncle used to be close when Duke had been a child, but he guessed it was this kind of behaviour that had driven them apart since then, because they didn't see much of each other any more. He'd been too young to remember enough of what his uncle used to be like, so he didn't miss him. But he did often think of the times he'd used to play with his cousin, Stiles.

Before he'd gotten himself involved with gangs and knives and breaking the law, Duke had been a good kid, and seeing Stiles always helped remind him of that. He often felt like Stiles' big brother, not because they were close, or because they even knew each other very well, but because neither of them really had anyone else. Despite the 'gang' Duke surrounded himself with, he didn't particularly care for them, and it was obvious that Stiles wasn't a popular guy. Being with each other helped them forget about that for a while. But their meetings were becoming few and far between now they were both growing up. He was often preoccupied with obligations to his gang, and Stiles' leash was being noticeably tightened by his father when it came to independence. Not to mention he probably wouldn't approve of the path Duke had picked for himself. The general rule that anyone that was in the same room as both Theo and his son at the same time would become extremely uncomfortable was no less true for Duke, even though he had known both of them all his life. He hated the way Stiles retreated into himself when he was around his father, and he knew that there was something bigger than a simple overbearing character outshining a quieter one. Maybe if he'd been the person he wished he was, he would investigate further, to ensure that intimidation was as far as Theo ever went. But he was not. So he settled for an unwavering distrust of his uncle, avoiding him whenever he could manage it. Bumping into him while he was on the warpath did not fit with this plan.

“I'm just going to deal with something” He said vaguely, scowling as he failed to squeeze around the large man.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re about to gather your boys to start something that I’m going to end up finishing?” Stilinski said, his tone having lost its drunken slur.

“You know that Thalia Hale’s son is here?” Deucalion asked, giving up the futile battle of escaping a talk, instead trying to rile him up as well.

“I saw them walking in. And they are still here, are they not? That is because I permit them to be here. Do you honestly think they would have crossed my threshold if I cared enough to ban them from doing so? They are harmless children, making a scene will be more trouble than it’s worth, and these are troubling times, which do not need to be made worse by the trivial feuds of boys." The man spoke with furrowed brows, as if the idea anyone would imagine his party wasn’t going exactly as planned was idiotic. "You are not to contradict my decision boy.” Preempting the rebuttle that Duke was brewing. He made to move away, deciding that was all that was needed.

“But uncle…” Duke’s persistence was swiftly cut off by Stilinski’s eyes flashing around back to him with a dangerous glint. 

“If you dare to even look at the Hale boy with hostile intentions I will not be banning them from this house, but you. And you do not want to imagine what would happen should you disobey me in that too.” Theo hissed into Duke’s ear, while gripping his arm enough to bring involuntary tears to the boy’s eyes. When he was sure the message had gone in for definite this time, he released his hold without another look back, and left to attend to his guests.

Duke looked down as he hurriedly blinked away the moisture in his eyes, seething far more than before. He pushed through the crowd that had gathered to watch the confrontation, and thought bitterly about how the three teenagers had made him a fool in front of strangers. 

 

No one made fun of Deucalion.


	6. - Derek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooops. I built up a mind block knowing this was in important chapter, and it took me a month, so, sorry >_

He knew when he discovered he could hear the beat of the music before he left the taxi cab that this was not his kind of party. 

He stared at the darkness out of the window of the taxi as it drove around the last bend in the drive, but had to take his head off the pane when it started vibrating from the music. The girls weren’t talking, but Lydia was on her phone, social media almost certainly. As long as she wasn’t drunk enough to be able to hold her pink iPhone, she would be snapchatting and posting pictures of colourful and complicated cocktails at the bar onto Instagram. Allison was just nodding her head to the muted beat of the radio in the font of the car, her loosely curled hair falling around her face.

The girls looked good, both clad in two of Lydia’s dresses, with cropped jackets over the top. He would have sworn that Lydia’s heels were too tall to be safe, but he had seen her successfully traverse parties in those things (whilst drunk) better than others could when sober and in flats. Meanwhile, he was still in the jeans and casual shirt he’d arrived at Lydia’s. If he was honest, he had been expecting not to actually go through with it, and so hadn’t brought a change of clothes. Lydia had not been happy. Now he was just metres away from the door, and all he wanted to do was get back into the cab that brought them and drive home.

But he had promised Lydia, and silently promised himself, that he would try tonight. So he followed Lydia through the grand front doors, and lost her immediately in the crowds, as he was sure had been her intention. The heat of hundreds of sweaty teens him in a wave and so did the sounds of half the kids in the city dancing. Within minutes the music had given him a headache, and the alcohol Lydia had at some point forced into his hand only made it so much worse. He felt gross when the drunk young adults crashed into him, and barely registered the many slurred pick-up lines being thrown his way.

Wherever he looked, he saw red and yellow decorations. Scarves and flags hung from the walls each with the emblem of the team he was supposed to despise. A lot of the boys were wearing Manchester United football shirts and some had even painted their faces. He would be worried one of the many avid fans would recognise him, but they didn’t seem to care about anything but dancing and drinking. The guests were all through the huge mansion, Derek assumed, but most seemed to be contained in this downstairs area. There must have been hundreds of 20 something year olds staggering round that room. Even though it was only a little after half past nine he wasn’t surprised at how many of them were already intoxicated, and he knew Lydia was fast heading the same way, judging by the crowd that had materialised around her shouting “Shot, shot, shot”.

Still standing near to the door, he looked around for Allison, and saw her leaning against the wall holding a red cup. Some guy seemed to be in the middle of a conversation with her, and judging by his stance and flirty smile, he had a particular goal in mind. She was playing along, but of course, Derek knew that she wasn’t interested. If she and Lydia had thought they were being at all subtle, they were both wrong. He could see it right now in the glances she made towards her progressively more inebriated friend despite the fact she was being chatted up at that very moment, by a pretty hot guy, Derek noted. And it wasn’t just a one sided feeling either. Though he and Lydia didn’t share the bond that he did with Allison, it was obvious that the other girl felt the same. He’d barely been outside in weeks, and when he did it was with the two of them (however adverse Lydia had been to his involvement in their plans); there wasn’t exactly much else to pay attention to other than their constant awkward flirting.

 

Part of him was angry at Lydia. The only thing stopping the two of them from being together was the fact that the total length of any of Lydia’s previous relationships was never more than a night. She never showed any desire for that to change, by the way that she flirted with everyone in sight, always taking one of them home. It was like she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t deal with the real feelings she had for Allison, so she didn’t face it. She took Allison to her parties and made her watch as Lydia went home with someone else, even though (however little she wanted to admit it) she knew Allison was just as hurt by her doing that as Lydia was. It was a messed up loop, that had been going on for months. Both too scared to change the norm, because of the probable outcome that all that they'd built up would fall apart if they tried to.

So he left Allison to deal with it however she could, and made his way over to the drinks table.

It was a ridiculously large centre piece. Every inch had a cup on it, thanks to the constant restocking of drinks by the staff wandering around. There was by far enough to get Derek completely off his face, and he was seriously considering whether that was the only viable option to get him through tonight. But he stopped himself. It wouldn’t help him. It would just make him feel like hell tomorrow.  
Wow, he thought, I really have gotten boring.

 

He made his way around the perimeter of the room, got to the kitchen, and pulled open the door he found on the far wall. The cold hit him immediately, and was a welcome relief from the sweaty room he’d left. He realised that even that one drink that Lydia had given him had gone to his head, and wondered when the last time he’d eaten was. Despite his best intentions, he wasn’t ready for tonight, and he knew that he wasn’t going back inside. Still, it was a big step that the two girls had even gotten him this far. Just this little achievement gave him hope, but he was too afraid to think about the possibilities, because that would mean thinking about her again. He looked forward and moved so as to stop his throat closing, and the panic starting like it always did.

Instead, he moved along the outside wall of the house, until the music booming from inside was muted to a bearable level, and found a bench facing the big garden. He took out his phone and began to mess around on it, while hoping that the massive man who owned this place didn’t come out and find him here. It would be the last thing his mum needs, for her son to be found trespassing on the enemy team’s grounds, but he wanted to be a little selfish for tonight. Even if he was just sat alone in the cold and the dark, he wanted to be out of the four walls of his room, where he could only wallow in ‘what-ifs’ of him and Jennifer.

 

So when the door a few feet away from him opened for the first time since he’d gone through it, he panicked, and threw himself onto the ground, backing himself into the wall to hide from the new guest on the patio. Even when he saw they were only a young guy, and another man that Derek figured must be his father, he couldn’t get up, because he couldn’t reveal himself on the floor. Just fantastic. But they'd only be out for a few minutes, and then go back to the party. He could stay on all fours for just a few minutes. He could hear them speaking, and was very grateful the music was still loud enough to distract them, and for the cover of night.

“Right, we got the nod from your mum. She thinks you have about five minutes before he notices you’ve gone. And this could be the most important five minutes of your life. No pressure” Curious, Derek peeped around the bench a little further, to see the older man aiming a video phone at the younger man, who was holding a ball.

 

Seriously? More football?

 

“I just need you to show me some skill. Ball control, agility; nothing too major. Just so I have some evidence of what you can do in case I need it. No need to be nervous, you’ve done much better than I’m asking you now in training without a second thought. Forget the camera, just show me what you have.” The man finished, raising the camera and giving a reassuring nod.

The boys in Derek’s class were often mean skinny guys like this kid, but if they could have seen the boy in front of him now there was no doubt they would have been in awe. The routine was perfect, a seamless show of football skills that would have made any professional jealous. While Derek would not have thought it possible that he would become so immersed in anything involving football, he lost himself in the graceful movements of the boy, keeping the ball in the air, then on his knee, on his foot, on his back. He was nearly silent too, Derek didn’t doubt that even if the music wasn’t seeping through from the inside, that he wouldn’t have been able to hear a sound.

All too soon, he gave a flick of his ankle, the ball was in his hands and he was finished. The man told him that he’d done well, then with a pat on the back he disappeared inside. Of course, instead of following him the boy came and fell heavily on the bench Derek was crouched right next to. He swore internally. It was like a scene from a comedy show, and he was the punchline.

 

At less than a metre away, he could hear his breath now. Hardly ragged, like most would be after exercise, his breaths were more deep and satisfied. He wondered what that had all meant, why the boy’s father couldn’t know about that recording, who the man with him had been, curiosity returning to him for the first time in months.  
Suddenly a shrill whistle rang through the air. Derek’s phone. Revealing his, quite frankly creepy hiding place.

“What the…?” The boy exclaimed, turning sharply to the sound before seeing the mortified Derek

“What the hell!” he hissed as Derek collapsed backwards. What were the chances of one of the three people on his contacts texting him at that moment? So miniscule that Derek knew this could only happen to him.

“I am so sorry. I know how it looks, but you gave me a heart attack first” He attempted an apologetic grin and failed in his embarrassment.

“Huh?”

“You walked outside so suddenly I, uh, fell off the bench. Then it got kind of awkward…” He wondered if the boy had been drinking when he saw he wore a tiny smirk, how else would he think this amused and not completely creepy, but quickly realised he wouldn’t have the coordination to perform with the ball like that if he was anything but sober.

“Awesome skills, by the way” He reached out for something to break the silence.

“Ah. You saw.” the boy turned his face away.

“Are you honestly embarrassed right now? That was the best skill I’ve ever seen, and I see a lot of football” Derek couldn’t help but smile when he saw him trying to smother a full blown grin of pride.

“Thanks, weirdo”

“It’s true”

“You play?”

“Hardly”

“Just watch a lot?”

“A lot” He couldn’t hide the boredom in his voice when he said that. But regretted it when it seemed to put him off the vague conversation they were beginning.

“Is it a family thing?”

“My mum’s into it, and even though she enjoys it, it stresses her out, which stresses me out.”

“Tell me about it.”

 

The conversation spiralled into complaining about family, from violent cousins to overflirtatious friends, going off on tangents, with occasional comfortable silences. Derek made his way back onto the bench pretty soon after the introduction, and the boy seemed happy to share the seat. When the boy, whose name was found out to be Stiles, began to shiver, Derek immediately offered his jacket, warm from his own body heat, barely stopping to think that it would be weird. It just wasn't, it was natural.

Maybe it was just the fact that he hadn’t met someone new in a long time or he was just eager to stop thinking about his disastrous love life, but he was loving just being with him.

When the conversation steered away from football, they got onto talking about the stars. It was a clear night, and their eyes had long since adjusted to the dark, so they were able to see some constellations out ahead. Stiles was obviously used to coming outside to do this, as he was able to point out a few that weren’t close to the horizon, but they couldn’t see much other than straight up thanks to the buildings and trees around them. Derek smiled at his expression when he had his head tilted up, in awe the whole time.

Throughout their conversations they’d edged closer to each other on the bench (to conserve heat of course) and somehow Derek had ended up with his arm around Stiles (all he did was stretch and suddenly the boy was leaning back into the embrace), and he’d began to rest his head on Derek’s shoulder at some point (it aches to have your head tilted upwards for so long looking at the sky without supporting it).

Trying as hard as he could to not disturb the peaceful boy, he went to pull his phone out of his jacket pocket, that Stiles was wearing, so he could look at the time, but as he gently reached his hand in, Stiles’ hand reached up to take Derek’s. Slowly, he traced along the veins and the fingers that were numb from cold, without opening his eyes. After a bit of an awkward pause, Derek let him, enjoying the feel of it, but wary of the sudden escalation of the dynamic. This boy had definitely been drinking, Derek figured, this wasn't normal for strangers right?

 

They’d been resting almost silently for a long time, the quiet interrupted occasionally by a new and random question from Stiles about the oddest things to be thinking about, including to query if Derek thought pigeons had feelings (he had replied in the negative, which had set Stiles on a mini debate as to why he was, in fact, mistaken). That long time turned into just over an hour. in a sleepy daze, when Derek’s phone rang again. He really needed to turn that thing off. Though he would have been happy ignoring it, Stiles was already reaching for the phone inside the loaned coat pocket and brought it up to Derek’s face for him to see. He didn’t even read the message but looked in shock at the time of 10:30pm. They’d been hanging out for much longer than he’d realised. He told the boy on his shoulder the cause of the surprise, and he was even more shocked than him.

“I left my dad ages ago and he’s not found me here!” He exclaimed in confusion.

“Same with my friends” He replied, knowing he should be peeved but there was more the a little relief in there.

“I should probably go back in there…” Stiles trailed off, eyes darting to the door, yet he made no move to go. Instead, he looked up at the boy who he’d been using as a pillow with a smile. Derek’s chest tightened when he looked into his eyes so close to him.

Twisting his body slightly to get a more face on view of him, he answered, “Me too.”

 

Okay, now this was the part where he was meant to lean in and kiss him. His stomach suddenly twisted up, and the warmth of his flush drove away the numbness from the cold. Oh, yes, he wanted to, but this was unknown territory. People like Lydia could go to a party and do much more than this with total strangers, and that hour was enough to know that he actually liked Stiles, but he had been depressed over Jennifer for weeks, and known Stiles for an hour. Letting all his feelings for Jennifer be overridden so easily seemed wrong. like he should be more faithful to the memory. It didn’t have to mean anything, but Derek wasn’t someone who could do that and if he was honest for himself, he was lost as he saw his graceful skills. 

 

He moved a little closer.

His eyes were down, looking up to him shyly.

He tilted his face up, and Stiles' eyes peeked from under his lashes to alternate between looking at Derek's eyes and his lips

Just as Derek thought he was ready, the door a little along for them opened forcefully for the first time since John had left them. A petite red-head stumbled out, nearly toppling as the door opened more quickly than anticipated.

 

He was going to kill Lydia.

 

The moment gone, they quickly moved away from each other, avoiding the others’ eyes.  
They watched her as she stumbled over towards a patch of shrubbery, looking horribly like she was about to throw up. But she seemed to quell that urge, and lurched back around to go inside. Unfortunately, even in her intoxicated state, she managed to notice Derek.

“Where have you been all night bro?” She shouted as he staggered over to the pair, brushing right past Stiles. “You’re missing the *hic* fun!” Derek found himself with a pair of strong hands pulling him up from his seat, even with him fighting back. “Night on the town remember!? We’re showing those Manchester United jerks how to PARTY!” When she gathered Derek would not be returning to the action, judging by his aghast glare and the amount of venom in the desperate hisses for her to be quiet, she left to return back to the house, shouting the lyrics to Liverpool’s signature song, ‘Never Walk Alone’.

“Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart, and you’ll never walk alone.” As the chorus faded from hearing distance, Derek was torn whether to go after her and shut her up so she didn’t get battered by the room full of drunken Manchester fans, or whether to stay with Stiles. But the look of shock he had on his face when Derek looked back to him was not like the same expression he had looked away from.

 

Then he realised. He remembered the stupid rivalry, how it wasn’t done to fraternise with the enemy like this, and he remembered that Stiles was so into his football, of course he was going to be mad when he found out that he supported Liverpool – this stuff actually mattered to him. And Stiles didn’t even know Derek’s mum yet.  
“I was on about Manchester for an hour and you didn’t bother to tell me you support Liverpool?” He spoke, and he knew he was hurt. Angry? Derek couldn't tell. “Why did you stay when you realised I’m Manchester?”

He was about to say that he didn’t care, that he wasn’t going to sacrifice knowing him because of someone else’s rivalry, but he didn’t get chance, as once more the door opens, and out comes none other than Theo Stilinski himself.

 

With no chance to apologise, or explain himself, he got revealed by the angry man of his true relationship to the team, and could not explain to the appalled Stiles before he was shouted out of the garden, out of the house, ending up on the road outside.


	7. - Allison

What a stupid idea. 

Bringing such a reserved person to such an obnoxious place. She’d not even seen Derek for practically the whole time they were there, never mind given him the chance to have a good time. She’d been too busy keeping tabs on Lydia.

If her problem with one friend is that he wouldn’t come out of his shell, the problem with the other is that she was so far out of her shell, that the shell was a dot in the distance to her. Convincing Lydia away from the communal punch bowl was a difficulty, and Allison was pretty sure she’d got a few swigs in of whatever toxic substances everyone had poured in anyway. She couldn’t stop the outrageous dancing, and the making out with random guys, however short and sloppy it was; that was just what Lydia did. 

 

Watching the same thing happen for so long had helped Allison to forget the feelings she usually had for Lydia. It would be too painful to feel how she did, while watching her go home with someone else. It would have hurt a lot more if anything she did at these events meant something to Lydia, but they did not. She was always home by the following morning, the previous night forgotten, and Allison always there to greet her and confirm she was okay before promptly leaving so as to avoid a recount of the time since they’d separated. Allison’s biggest fear was that one day she wouldn’t come home the next day, either because she’d gotten herself into trouble, or because she’d met someone that she didn’t want to forget in the morning. She had no right to tell her friend that she couldn’t do that though, if she found happiness with someone, who was she to prevent that. Allison couldn’t bring herself to tell Lydia just how deeply she felt for her; Lydia didn’t need it weighing her down.

And this was another one of those horrible nights, but she was used to it. 

 

She found herself sitting in a corner on a pile of cushions, in some kind of circle with a bunch of strangers. In the middle were a lot of bottles, all making their way to being drained with people periodically leaning in to get a swig of. Lydia was in the arms of some burly jock who was equally drunk, and must have been a few years younger than the girl. Allison could see she was about to start a make out session that would continue long into the night, like a few other pairs had done around her in the circle. The ones who hadn’t locked lips were mumbling intermittently about no doubt inspiring things, but Allison wasn’t interested in meaningless small talk with the half unconscious people around her. That was another reason she hated these parties – she could hardly drink anything. Why she bound herself to sobriety in order to watch over a girl that didn’t notice she was there was difficult to justify. Alcohol would make these nights much more bearable, even if it was just to be on the same level as the people around her. But if she was drunk, there was no point in her being there at all. She needed a clear mind for her friend. Just in case.

But watching her lean around and stare into the eyes of someone else, and kiss them deeply was not something she had to stay and watch.

 

Suddenly, it occurred to her that she had last seen Derek what must have been more than an hour ago. For someone who was insistent that they would not be going to any social event for the rest of their lives, he was certainly occupying himself. Something felt off. 

Shit.

There was a lot of alcohol easy to get at. She was actually a moron. She’d left him alone long enough for him to drink himself into a coma. She stood quickly, shocking the guy that had come to be leaning on her. What the hell had she been thinking? She had to go now and find him. She told Lydia that she was going to be two minutes. She hoped the moan she made was one of affirmation, and Allison left her side. 

She tried to get to the huge staircase so she could see above everyone’s heads, and though it took her a while to squeeze through, she couldn’t see the surly figure even at her vantage point. She must have spent ten minutes going through everyone room that there were people in to find him, but try as she might; he was nowhere to be seen. She panicked a little when her search proved fruitless. She sent him a text. 

She didn’t know what to do. It was like looking after two infants. But she had to remind herself that he was not a child, and it was enough for her to briefly abandon her hunt, and go to check on the other teenager in her care. She got back to the circle she’d left, and her stomach dropped further to see that Lydia had disappeared. So had the guy she’d been wrapped around just ten minutes ago. She asked the people around where they’d been if they knew where they’d gone, not really expecting an actual answer from the start, and not getting one. She began another round of the house to look for both of them this time.

 

The song of the Liverpool football team led her to one missing friend, who had just left to throw up outside, and Allison quickly shut her up, and led her away from the scattered glares she was receiving. The jock was nowhere to be seen, and Lydia was struggling to stand, if she was going to ensure she didn’t go home with another drunken stranger, she needed to get her home now. She could be imagining it, but Lydia seemed to have drunk even more than usual; she made a point to remember to ask her if there was anything on her mind her tomorrow. She had to make a decision between Lydia or Derek. She made the decision too quickly to be comfortable with, but told herself that Derek will almost certainly have gone home five minutes after he walked in the door, he was never one for drinking. Or parties. Or people. It was a flimsy excuse for leaving him, and she felt immensely guilty, but she knew that if she found out tomorrow that he’d just left of his own accord and she’d let Lydia leave with someone else just because she felt bad, she would hate herself even more.

 

So, like every other party ends, Allison called a taxi, and walked Lydia through the garden to sober her up just a little, then got inside the warm car, hoping that the other girl could hold her drink well enough to not vomit on both of them, and after an emotional but slurry, ‘thank you’ and ‘you’re the best’, Lydia fell asleep on top of Allison well before they made it back to her house.

With a final text to Derek, Allison settled himself at Lydia’s for the night, ready to be there if she woke up in the night and needed a bucket or the Heimlich or something.

‘Where are you?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ughh this is cringey to write. Really need some constructive feedback to help me with stuff that I'm doing wrong, because I know there is a lot of that. So, please comment! Anything..!


	8. - Stiles

Being subjected to another one of his father’s fits was not fun. Finding him after an hour of being missing, in the company of the son of their greatest enemy, did not bode for a pleasant father-son chat. Stiles knew it was fathers’ jobs to be protective of their children, but he also knew that this reaction was not normal. He lived in fear of which inconsequential thing would set off the man next. While his peers had been sneaking into clubs when they were sixteen, he’d been at home under Theo’s constant vigilance. Friends never came over twice, they couldn’t even stand being in the same house as Theo for just a few hours, which kind of put an end to his social life even at home. Yeah, there was social media, but Stiles figured that was just sad, talking to people online and then having no one to actually have a verbal conversation with in real life. Besides, it was too disheartening scrolling through all the different versions of the lives he wished he had.

His home life was a mess. Constant stress not only from his crazy-intense football training programme, but also from school to keep his grades up. He wasn’t top of the class, but Theo had made it clear that’s where he was meant to be, though Stiles knew he only demanded that in an effort to divert some attention away from sport.

He and his mother had become very close now Stiles was old enough to understand. Neither of them could stand up to him when he was angry, but just knowing the other was there for support made it bearable. He hated to see how her own husband treated her. Every day something would set him off. She misses a spot cleaning the floor, he’d stalk outside into the mud and trek it inside just out of spite. If dinner wasn’t to his liking, he’d leave to go to the bar down the road, which you’d think would be a good thing, but it would only be a matter of time before he’d come home, drunk, and even worse than when he left. He just wouldn’t care. Nothing was safe, crockery would be thrown, ornaments shattered, and increasingly, he would grab one of them and not let go until the other one talked them out of it. 

And Stiles couldn’t protect her. At 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones, he was in no shape to physically stand up to him, and even if his diplomatic skills were a hundred times what they were currently were, it wouldn’t be enough. Not only because Stiles was convinced that the man was unreachable, but because he knew that no matter how psyched up for his rages he thought he was going to be, when it came down to the face off he could never manage more than stoic silence. He’d managed to control the whimpering noises of pain from being roughly handled a while ago, but that was all he could do in defiance. He could only stand there pleading when Theo would grab his helpless wife by the neck and hold her against the wall with a sick smirk on his face, threatening to draw his hand back and make the blow.

He despised Theo with his whole being.

He’d stood there, and screamed and screamed. With every sudden movement he made, Stiles would flinch back in fear, and didn’t Theo love the power rush that gave him? Melissa was there, silent, but there, appealing to him when he was about to lose it. And that was enough. He was careful to wait until Theo had truly shouted himself hoarse and had finished before retreating to his room. He knew his mum would be okay, she’d take herself off to bed soon too, so she could pretend to be asleep when he staggered in later on, even if no one could reasonably be expected not to wake up with the amount of noise he makes getting ready to sleep. That was how the evenings usually went anyway.

 

Alone, in his room, he wanted to do some screaming of his own. Of frustration and pure rage. Unable to stand up to him for seventeen years. Of course, he did not. His house was big but not that big, and sadly, not soundproof. He merely flicked off the light switch, peeled back his duvet and climbed into bed, fully clothed, shaking a little beneath the sheets. He wouldn’t cry yet. Theo might still come back and see the red eyes, and that would enforce the idea that he ‘won’. He would only succumb to his emotions after he was sure he’d heard the lumbering footsteps up the stairs and across the landing to bed, and even then, only muffled sobs stifled by the covers.

Right now he was too riled up to sleep. Eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could easily pad over to the curtain to the side of his bed and draw back the soft material. He unlatched the panes and pushed open the window. A soft breeze cooled his face immediately, and he leaned into it.

He could still hear cars pulling up to, then back out of, the driveway for stragglers still left at the party, but the interruption of finding Derek with Stiles had meant a change in Theo’s mood that was not compatible with the party mood. They drained away quickly after the screaming started. If people hadn’t guessed what Stiles was going through with his father already, they had proof now. Which was just, brilliant.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he willed those thoughts away with a deep breath. Then he turned to look at the stars, for the second time that night.

Derek.

He had little clue what to make of their exchange. The thing most fresh in his mind was how he had purposefully hidden who he was. With all the talk on the subject, and Stiles had to find out that Derek was Thalia Hale Jr, from his father? It was humiliating. The only consolation Stiles could find was that he was merely lying by omission because he didn’t want Stiles to shun him straight away, build up preconceptions that would turn out to be misconceptions, but would never be found that out because they would never have talked at all. He clearly assumed that Stiles’ father’s views on Thalia would be reflected in the son, which was not the case. The fact that the two teams had the largest rivalry in English football didn’t bother him at all – he’d always thought it immature, pointless and a distraction from the game. But it must have bothered Derek, and that bothered Stiles.

If Derek had only had a chance to explain himself, Stiles wouldn’t be left like this, questioning everything that had happened that evening. The hour before that had been so blissful, so peaceful. Just talking. Possibly the most communication he’d had with anyone outside a classroom in months, though he was glad Derek didn’t know that. But then again, it wasn’t just talking. Stiles had fallen half asleep with Derek’s arm around him. They’d held hands for goodness’ sake. It was then he remembered that the jacket Stiles was absently drawing tighter around himself against the chill of the night, was not his. He stroked the material, and recalled how it had looked on Derek's athletic form before he had donated it.

Stiles wasn’t gay. Except he probably was. He’d never given it any thought, but he didn’t have anything against the idea. He wasn’t thinking when they were leaning in for that kiss, any different than if it had been a girl, which was weird for him. But it also felt normal. It definitely helped that below that thin shirt, Stiles was leaning against a wall of firm muscle, and the strong bicep curled protectively around him was doing more to his body than just keeping him warm…

They’d talked for too long for Derek just to be looking for a quick hookup. He could’ve gone back into that room and picked up anyone he chose if he’d been so inclined, but he hadn’t. They had actually, seriously, almost kissed. 

But, like the shitty way life goes, Theo had come in and fucked everything up for him. He didn’t even get to say goodbye before Derek was out on the streets, and Stiles was hauled upstairs. Without him knowing Stiles’ phone number, and he wasn’t even sure whether he’d mentioned that this was his house, chances were that they would never cross paths again. The thought was heavy in his mind as he kept on looking into the night sky. At least the jacket would remind him he hadn't made it up, though he was certain Theo wouldn't be letting it go any time soon. Stiles could dream that he'd come back for it.

He smiled to himself as he whispered into the dark, “O Derek, Derek, wherefore art thou Derek”.


	9. - Derek

The phone in his pocket made Derek jump as it vibrated with yet another text.

“Where are you?” the message read. Not Allison's usual emoji filled texts; she was angry. With only a short pause, he dragged a finger across the screen to turn the brightness down to minimum and muted the mobile before stuffing it back in his jeans. 

It was kinder this way really. He figured Allison would seriously flip if he sent back a text explaining he was skulking through the bushes of a garden belonging to a boy he had just met, after he’d been banished by the owner of the estate. He would let her think that he’d got lucky or gone home or something.

He was 99% sure that he had the right house, he was hoping that he hadn’t imagined the father screaming for Stiles to get upstairs as he was being removed. Not something you’d do at a guest’s house. But there was still the problem of finding the right window. With so many to choose from, what with the three stories of grandeur before him, he would just have to keep edging around the perimeter, and hope that he would find some sort of indication of the glass panes he wanted. He hadn't really thought this part through

He got to the end of one side, and rounded the corner, and his adrenaline spiked when he saw the figure at the balcony on the third floor. The sheer dumb luck of Stiles being outside right at this moment struck Derek as a miracle. With a brief flash of self-awareness, Derek realised the reaction he wanted to elicit from Stiles would not be the positive one he hoped for if he should look across the lawn now and see him, but he happened to be well concealed in the shrubs, not that the daydreaming boy would have seen him – he was preoccupied with the clear night sky. That guy had an obsession with stars. Derek stood for a few minutes, partly because he hadn’t planned to get this far, and didn’t know where to go next, but partly because he didn’t want to disturb the peaceful moment. He seemed almost glued to the spot with apprehension.

Then it all came crashing down on him. Why the hell was he here? This was stupid. And crazy. And stupid. Not to mention very creepy. This wasn’t a TV show, or a fairytale, it wasn’t done to sneak onto private property under the cover of darkness in real life. But for all the he couldn't move towards Stiles, he couldn’t leave either. 

He hoped the moment would never pass, so neither would have to move, but clearly Stiles wasn’t aware of this plan, and it could only have been a couple of minutes before Derek could see him rousing himself to retreat back into his room.

He hadn’t come this far to just let him slip through his fingers now. The universe had handed him the coincidence of finding him, against all odds, but it would not be so kind as to cross their paths again, this was his last chance. But he still fought the impulse to walk forward. This wasn’t Derek, he was quiet and shy and a good boy.  
But Stiles had almost disappeared.

So Derek detached himself from who he normally was. He took a breath and he didn’t think as he called out.

“Wait” He hissed. “Stiles wait.”

He stole two glances to the left and right before moving hesitantly towards the window, still bent double for protection. He could see Stiles’ head turn at the summoning, and he was frowning when Derek next saw his face, peering out. He’d done it now, and it was easier to carry on from here.

“Stiles” He called again, daring to raise his voice above a whisper. The brown eyes sought him out and Derek swore they grew twice as big when they found him.

“Derek, what the hell are you doing here?” Stiles hissed back, checking the area around them himself for onlookers. He turned around to redistribute the drapes on the other side of the window and close it behind him. When he got back to the balcony his attention was wholly on Derek. Expectant.

Good question. Derek had no idea what he was meant to say to that. He wasn’t exactly going to make a declaration of love like they would if it were a movie. He suddenly felt stupid standing there on the grass.

“Listen, I know, this is not what you expect from a guy you just met, but I needed to make you understand. I couldn’t just leave, knowing that was the memory you were left with.” It sounded cringeworthy to his own ears, he dreaded what Stiles was making of this odd confession.

“I shouldn’t have lied to you. It was a conscious decision to keep the truth from you; I had a pretty good idea you support Manchester just by finding you here, and then you were talking about it, and even knowing how important this all is to you, I still didn’t tell you. I guess I thought it didn’t matter, that I’d never be seeing you again. Or that I didn’t want you to react badly that it would ruin getting to know you. Or even that I didn’t want you to only focus on that part of me; I didn’t want you to think I was a bad guy, not worth getting to know, just because of the football team my mum manages.”  
He finished his hurried ramble, a decent speech which had been tainted by garbled words and panicked breaths in between. He drew in one more gulp of air to calm himself.

“What I’m saying” He began again, slower, in a last ditch attempt to say what he wanted to with some kind of fluency. “I don’t care what football team you support. And I hope you can see further than my mother’s job to tell you if I’m worth your time.”

It was all wrong. It had come out defensive, and too full on, and if it had been Derek on that balcony he wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t have called the Police by now. He’d been flicking his gaze between Stiles, his own hands, and some tree at the other end of the garden through the speech, but now, he fixed his focus on the wide eyed boy. His eyebrows were knitted together – in thought or confusion or anger Derek couldn’t tell. But he was realising that the time elapsing where no one had spoken was lengthening and neither were moving to change that.

 

Well, he can’t say he hadn’t tried. Maybe he’d be proud of himself when he looked back on this shambles of an attempt at romance or flirtation or desperation or whatever this was. That is after he’d come out of his room, which he will no doubt be locking himself into for a long long time after this. Why he would do this to himself so soon after experiencing rejection for the first time and it hitting him so hard was really an answerable question. He just lengthened his recovery time very severely. Idiot.

 

“You know what, I’m sorry, this was so stupid. I’ll g..”

“You wanted me to get to know you?” Stiles interrupted, speaking in a normal tone instead of a whisper which, in the still of night was loud enough, despite their three story distance. Derek couldn’t place the expression behind the words yet yet. There was still confusion mixed in with the curiosity.

“Yes.” Derek replied laconically. It was all he could think of to say. But it wasn’t going to get them anywhere. “And, I wanted to get to know you to.” He took it as a good sign that this appendage earned a smile.

“And what did you think?” There. That was more of a hint of the friendly banter that Stiles introduced himself by. He could see evidence of a smirk forming, though it was still shy.

“Can’t say I was disappointed.” Derek allowed himself to grin back at him. And Stiles stopped smothering his own. Butterflies pinged in his stomach seeing the boy bashfully look down at his hands. 

Now the awkward part seemed to have passed (he could not believe that he had not been kicked out), the adrenaline had dissipated a little, and Derek could feel his neck aching from his position of looking up. Not enough to make him look away though.

“And I thought we were having a pretty good time, before my dad..” Stiles’ soft voice trailed away, regretfully.

He was talking about the kiss. He was still interested. Derek couldn’t quite believe it.

His past self, even from an hour ago would never have recognised Derek from the bold moves he was making. This was not him. But it was working. He was being the person he’d always wanted to be, but had been too afraid to find in himself. He felt strong, and powerful, and ready to do things he never thought he would. It made him feel like a new man after the shell of one that he had been recently. Maybe it had been that to make him realise there was less to lose by trying, even if it meant failing.

 

Suddenly, Stiles’ head whipped round, turned by a sound that was too quiet from Derek to register. He stood deadly still, listening. Though he couldn’t hear the original sound, Derek could hear the string of curses that Stiles let loose afterwards.

“What?” Derek went back to hissing in case the event he feared was true. They'd been caught.

“My dad.” Stiles hissed back. He had already turned away, and was fiddling with the lock on his window. “Derek?”

“Yeah.”

“Come back tomorrow okay?” Despite the worry in his voice, Derek had to smile.

“Course, maybe a bit earlier though” He grinned, remembering the ridiculous time it had been when he looked on his phone on his arrival. Stiles whipped round again, despite having opened the window, and called to Derek again, "I still have your jacket!" He said, once more turning quickly, as if about to dive into the room and back out again with the jacket before the person evidently on the other side of his bedroom door got inside, but Derek stopped him. "Never mind that" He hurriedly spoke, noticing the hairs on his arms standing on end even as he said it, but it didn't matter. Then another thought occurred to him, "I'll get it tomorrow." Stiles' look of panic melted away for a second as he realised Derek had been serious about the promise of a return trip. With a grin similar to Derek's now on his face, he turned away for the last time. "Goodnight!" Derek called quietly. He said it to a closing window. Then he was alone.

 

The night returned to its stillness when the curtains on the inside of the room settled. Derek didn’t hang around. With the renewed threat of discovery, he made his way back down the drive via the bushes. Goofy grin on his face all the way. Not even the thought of being lectured by both his mother and Allison could diminish the childish joy he felt in that moment.

The feeling of victory, and the victory itself coursing through him as he walked, he hoped that though others might look at the event and think it small, it would be the start of something wonderful.


	10. -  Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is kind of an in-between chapter, just some description of how Stiles is feeling

He had to be crazy.

They didn’t teach you many useful things in primary school, but ‘don’t talk to strangers’ was probably one of the few lessons that he really should have taken on board. They would all be so disappointed in Stiles right now, he thought, as he held his breath through the incredibly slow task of crossing the landing, going past his parents’ room, making it down the stairs and manoeuvring his was around the front door. All in order to sneak out into the night with a stranger. Though of course, Derek felt like anything but a stranger to him.

 

The day had been spent recovering from the night before, be it tidying, disposing of damaged property, or drowning the hangovers in a few litres of water. The situation with Derek was not talked about again, but Stiles avoided Theo more than usual anyway. In the daytime, Stiles was perfectly happy in the garden with his football, and then, when Theo called him inside, he was indifferent about tackling the small pile of homework. But as soon as the sun had set and Stiles had said an early goodnight to his parents, he was more awake than he had been the whole day.

The sheer excitement of the unknown, whatever that might turn out to be, was so welcome in his average life that he refused to consider that things could go wrong. The new boy just seemed so kind, and mature, with a hint of humanising bashfulness when he said the wrong thing. He seemed genuinely good, and in Stiles’ experience good people were in high demand but low supply.

So he busied himself with music, and reading, and in the end just pacing (after he had checked his clothes and hair in the mirror more times than he could count), too nervous to sit still to wait for Derek. 

 

He’d picked out a thin, plain white shirt and black skinny jeans. He had no idea what to expect, which made it even more exciting. Would it be a restaurant, or a movie? Maybe he wanted to take Stiles to another party, in which case he was probably overdressed, but it was better to be over dressed than under. He hoped that they wouldn’t be outside too long, since the outfit wasn’t designed for enduring the unpredictable English summer nights, but he would only be able to care about the cold after it was too late to change; he wasn’t changing, even he was happy with his reflection for once. Anyway, maybe his shivering would result in Derek letting Stiles keep his jacket for a little longer. He could already feel the warmth, remembering last night. The memory brought a fresh wave of adrenaline. Hair styled and breath fresh, he counted the minutes.

 

With the heat of summer come long daylight hours, and even though Derek had not left a time he would be returning, it was well after sunset that Stiles was still sitting alone. When the clock passed 11 o’clock, the adrenaline of a potential adventure began to drain away. It was too late for a movie, and the restaurants would be closing soon. Another 20 minutes came and went, and the giddy unease grew into another feeling which makes your insides tighten; disappointment.

It was hardly a date, but on his bed in his smart shirt with a discarded wristwatch thrown across the sheets, it felt like he had been stood up. For the hundredth time, he paced over to the window, not allowing himself to go outside, just to check no one was calling him too quietly for him to hear, but there was nothing. He’d said he would be here earlier tonight, but it was almost the time that he had appeared at the window last night, and it didn’t look like such an event was about to reoccur.

 

Too forcefully, Stiles threw the curtain across the glass. He was surprisingly angry. It wasn’t Derek’s fault that apparently one of them had had the sense to see that this plan was more than a little flawed. Stiles had pinned a lot of hope on him; how was Derek meant to know that this would have mattered to Stiles so much?

Stiles fell back onto his bed. Then, with a groan, rolled over so he could see the face of the wristwatch. 11:38. If he was coming, he would be here by now. It was time to stop being acting like the suggestion of a further date had been genuine, and go to bed. He got up and closed the window, then criss crossed the room until all of his dress clothes were off his body and in the right drawers, and his pyjamas had replaced them.

He didn’t bother getting ready for bed, other than a quick splash of water on his face to lift him from the residual embarrassment, and then, with the lights off, he made it to his bed and buried himself under the covers.

 

Of course, that didn’t mean he could sleep.

 

He hated knowing why he’d been so hung up on a tentative offer from a person he’d barely met. He hated feeling such desperation to be wanted by someone. Derek had been so nervous, so unsure, but he’d come back for Stiles because he was that excited about meeting him. The opposing football teams was something that nearly made Stiles give up on anything, but Derek not giving up was enough to firmly change his mind that this could be person worth fighting for. But obviously it had just been words. Even if it didn’t make sense, that was what had happened now.

Yes he was sad, but it was a different kind of sadness than the one that meant you lay crying for hours. This kind was more of the one that made you have to be alone for a while. Also the kind which meant sleep was unlikely. 

Every now and then Stiles would tap the lock button on his phone to see the time.

 

Midnight passed  
Half past.  
Quarter to 1.

 

All that passed the time was Stiles being able to hear snippets of the TV show Theo was watching in the room below. Every half hour he could hear the various opening songs of different comedies. He even quietly clapped along with the Friends theme when it came on. It seemed that Theo was having the same aversion to sleep as Stiles.

He then grimaced at the thought of finding any sort of similarity between them.

But even Theo eventually was caught up to by sleep, and Stiles heard the moment that the broadcast was cut out, and a new silence perforated the room. For lack of other stimulation, Stiles listened as the man struggled up the stairs and made it to his room, not bothering to keep quiet for the already sleeping Melissa. Within minutes the new sound of his snores disturbed Stiles from even well across the hall. Obnoxious even in his sleep.

 

With no more distractions, Stiles could feel himself finally drifting off.

 

Which is why when a tapping began, Stiles didn’t register at first. It felt like the remnants of a dream. But a particularly loud *snick* opened his eyes. He clumsily lifted the covers and stepped over towards the sound to investigate. He got to the window and looked at it in confusion. It didn’t usually make noises. Still a little unconscious, he opened the window and was promptly hit in the face.

Definitely conscious now, he held his hands up to his face and tried to see through the cracks for what had just assaulted him. He looked down over the balcony and saw a figure below, looking like it was stooped over. A second later, he rose again, with a handful of pebbles from the house border, and Stiles saw the face which made him wonder once more if he was truly awake at all.

 

It was him.

 

And he was lifting an arm back, getting ready to throw some more missiles at what he thought was a closed window.

“Derek stop!” Stiles whispered loudly. He saw the boy’s arm falter and drop.

“Stiles? My gosh I’m sorry I didn’t realise you were outside.” He said, and Stiles heard the stones in his left hand drop onto the ground.

“Derek, I didn’t think you were coming. You do realise it’s gone one o’clock in the morning?” Stiles said, making his whisper sound angry, even though there was only one thing in his mind, that he had back for him.

“I know Stiles, I didn’t want to do it like this, but it was your dad.” He seemed to stop as if gauging the conversation, “I’ve been here for a long time, but I’ve been waiting for everyone else to be in bed. You couldn’t sneak out with your dad still up… I could see through the window he wasn’t in bed. Is that too creepy? It’s just, from what I’ve seen, he’s not the most understanding type. I didn’t want you to get caught.”

 

Stiles didn’t honestly know what to say. He could have been there for hours, just so it would be easier for Stiles. He looked at him properly for the first time. He’d certainly come prepared, in a large jacket which looked like it was hiding many more layers, with gloves and a thermal hat, though he must have been bored, Stiles was pretty sure he hadn’t had to worry about being cold.

He also thought that whatever he had come prepared for was not an event that the flimsy shirt he was wearing earlier would have been sufficient to deal with. The curiosity was returning. He couldn’t be angry knowing the reason for his tardiness.

“You didn’t need to do that Derek.” Stiles whispered back. He could hear the soft smile in his own voice. “But thank you for staying.” There was a short pause, when Stiles knew Derek was blushing, then he whispered back up.

“So, are you ready to go?” And that was when Stiles remembered that he was stood in his oversized shirt and joggers, not exactly dressed for a date.

“No, I was in bed.” Stiles whispered the words, dragging them out to emphasise how obvious that fact was. “Where are we going anyway?” He said, leaning further out over the rail.

“Nuh uh uh, it’s a surprise.” Derek said with a quiet laugh, “Oh, but dress very warmly. Go on the idea that I am underdressed” He gestured to himself and grinned back up.

“Right, I’ll be five minutes.” Stiles said and with a last smirk towards the other boy, he retreated back into the indoors.

 

He didn’t have long, Derek has done his share of waiting. He wanted to go straight out to meet him, but there was still the problem of what to wear. If the idea was layers, it didn’t matter what he was wearing, and much to Stiles’ discomfort, he forced himself into his ugliest, but warmest, sweaters, combined with his football thermals and a lot of shirts. He grabbed gloves from one of his drawers, and a pair of earmuffs from the hook in his door. He made sure to grab his phone and his keys (muting the metallic jingle with a hand around them), and then softly opened the door.

Here was another spike of adrenaline. He could not be caught now. There would be no excuse for his leaving the house all decked up in gear if he came across his father. He’d never been so glad to have the nimble stature and balance of a footballer as he was when he was navigating that staircase with only his phone for light. Luckily he had an auditory gauge, and Theo’s snoring never stuttered.

At the end of the stairway he gently shuffled his keychain around until he came to the one he wanted, and taking care not to disturb the other keys, turned the lock until the click. Stiles opened it the smallest gap possible through which he could slip, and slowly shut it behind him.

 

He couldn’t quite believe that he had made it out alive. Yet he could feel the biting, post-midnight breeze on his face and see the stars and hear the footsteps of Derek emerging from the other side of the garden and it was all actually real.

He let out a quiet hysterical giggle, and turned to see the other boy.

“Hey Derek” Stiles said to him, still smiling from the exhilaration of it all.

“Hey Stiles” Derek replied, smiling. Stiles heard a small stammer in the words and was unsure whether it was nerves or cold, “shall we go then?”


	11. Chapter 11 - Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first date, Derek being all mysterious but proving himself to Stiles, who is very happy to go along for the ride

The two boys walked down the driveway and onto the main road outside, where Derek stood forward to hail a taxi. Stiles was all but skipping along next to Derek, who was looking on in amusement and rubbing his hands for warmth. Once again, Stiles felt bad about his long and chilly wait, but it made it all the more special that it was happening anyway.

 

“What’s in the pack then?” Stiles queried between hops, wondering what they could possibly be doing which would involve things which could only be carried in the generously sized backpack slung over Derek’s shoulder.

 

“An unexpected or astonishing event” Came the mysterious reply

 

“Come again?”

 

“A surprise, you idiot” Derek teased, throwing a grin to Stiles so he knew he wasn’t being serious. Stiles returned the expression and resigned himself to forced patience. He’d know soon enough.

 

There were few cars on the road, Stiles didn’t think he’d ever seen it so devoid of the regular hustle and bustle he saw going and coming back from school. The only time he’d seen this road was on the way to and from college and football, during rush hour. This was quite a change.

 

It was a sobering thought; never mind coming out on a midnight adventure, he barely left the house. This world, the one that left the pavements glowing in orange streetlight, where conversation could be as quiet as a whisper and still be heard thanks to the deserted road, and where Stiles could dance on the pavement to keep warm without being afraid of what anyone would think, was a world that was entirely new to his well-established routine. It was a place that his seventeen year old self craved more of, the freedom and the independence and the solitude could have overwhelmed him if it weren’t for the reason he was here. Derek, pacing back and forth waiting for a cab.

 

He thought to spare a glance to the sky. He knew it was a clear night; he would be able to see so many more stars here than in the garden, there were no trees out here. But there was a lot of light, whose ambience washed out any starlight up there. Maybe it would be a little rude to wander off right now. Besides, now he knew he could get out of the house unnoticed, it might start happening a lot more, and he could look at all the stars his heart desired.

 

Stiles had nearly calmed down enough to have the presence of mind to suggest calling for a cab on the phone, but the pull of wanting to spend longer on the abandoned streets, watching the interesting boy, prevented him from freeing Derek from his task, and instead watched him wander with fascination. It felt like they were the only people in the world.

 

Absent mindedlly, he wondered if this would be what it would be like if there was a zombie apocalypse. But then again, there wouldn’t be any streetlights. And you would probably be more wary of strangers than he was being. Maybe he’d be carried one of those huge knives, or a shotgun. Or not because guns mean noise which mean more zombies. And there wouldn’t be any cars at all, there would be no petrol, he’d have to walk everywhere. Or cycle, he knew his way round a bike just fine thank you. He’d probably be even fitter than he was now, especially with all the intermittent running he’d have to do to outrun the hordes. Flexing his biceps a little, he tried to imagine having proper muscles, like Derek. Arms that would ripple smoothly under soft material as he moved. A back that would seem to dance with every step. A strong, stubble-lined jaw that curved in all the right places…

 

Damnit. Focus! Stay on track tonight.

 

He was surprised at how many mundane things had become interesting now that it was after one o’clock in the morning. Not that Derek had been mundane any of the other times they’d been together.

 

A few minutes later they finally hailed a cab and quickly bundled into the backseat together, Derek stashing the bag at his feet. If the taxi driver was annoyed no one had joined him in the front, Stiles didn’t care enough to notice, he was too busy finding the mini heater and turning the heat on full blast while Derek told the cabbie where he wanted to go. He hadn’t even been that cold outside, the combination of the layers and the many experiences of trying coordinating his limbs to function on endless frozen football pitches had served him well enough to barely notice the chill. In fact, even as he held his palms to the hot fans, he was starting to feel a little warm in the bundles of clothes. So he let Derek’s hands replace his when he held them up, and turned his attention to the world passing by his window.

 

Distances that would have taken half an hour on his usual journeys took only five minutes, and he watched the black and golden city slip away beneath the glass at a faster pace than 10 mph for once.

 

The cab was dark inside, and smooth jazz was playing quietly on the stereo.  The temperature was comfortable, bordering on warm and he was less than a ruler’s length away from a very hot guy.  What a way to spend a Saturday night. Or, a Sunday morning he supposed. The atmosphere was just right to get Stiles feeling dozy, even with all the excitement of the night. He decided he was going to break the comfortable silence with a question he already knew the answer to.

 

“So where are we off to then?” He asked, leaning over to nudge the other passenger.

 

He only received a raised eyebrow in return. No way! Stiles envied that muscle control. His twelve year old self came to the surface for a minute in its jealousy. A brief flashback took him back to all the practices in the mirror after that Cadbury’s eyebrow advert came out. Mental note: he would resume that practice when he returned; the wordless sarcasm it could convey was priceless. Of course, it did mean  he wouldn’t be getting an answer.

 

As the eyebrow went back to its normal place, his mouth quirked up instead, upon witnessing Stiles’ unconscious attempt to copy his expression. 

 

The taxi took them off the main roads and weaved through a few estates. They seemed to be getting further from the city. He was right at least when he figured out this wouldn’t be a traditional date, and the curiosity grew even more. As did the casual wonderment of whether he was being taken to the hills because Derek turned out to be a crazed serial killer, intent to cross Stiles off the list that he had somehow gotten himself on.

 

No, we said no weird and random thoughts tonight. Keep it cool.

 

Derek grabbed onto the back of the passenger seat and craned his neck around to see out of the windscreen better. Leaning back down again, he assured Stiles they were almost there.

 

Finally, the vehicle slowed, and stopped at the end of a road which only led onto a field. Derek pulled on the handle as soon as they stopped moving and grabbed his bag as he left. Stiles sighed one last time at the comfort of the car, then zipped his jacket back up and opened his own door.

 

The quiet of the night came to surround him once more, and Stiles felt soothed by the peace. He watched as Derek leant over the cabbie’s window to pay him, one hand on the metal of the car above the window, leaning on it, balancing his backpack by one strap at the same time. Stiles wondered how someone can look so sexy when they have too many layers on to even recognise the human form. Stiles then wondered how he had become so gay so quickly.

 

That thought nearly caused him to laugh out loud, and he quickly buried his face in the collar of his coat before Derek could ask what was so funny.

 

Derek stood up, and the satisfied cabbie drew up his window and rolled away into the night. They stood watching it until it had gone from hearing. Then, they turned to each other, almost at the same time, with identical smiles, the playfulness returning. With a nod of inclination, Derek began to walk towards the empty field.

 

“C’mon”

 

And Stiles obliged, jogging at first to catch up. Derek had already taken a torch out of his bag, and was shining it on the ground in front of Stiles so he wouldn’t trip and fall. Clearly Derek was experienced enough along this path so he didn’t need a similar aid. He didn’t seem cold anymore, the cab having warmed him up. If he got cold again, Stiles decided he would donate his gloves. He didn’t really need them anyway, and he wasn’t the one holding the torch out. They made small talk. It was nice. Familiar. They laughed and it felt so easy.

 

After a few minutes, the ground began to steepen, and Derek shone the torch to show Stiles the hill ahead. It was pretty huge, and Stiles had to admit he couldn’t help but gape a little. Derek had already started walking again.

 

Forget lending his gloves, Derek was going to have to loan his bag so Stiles could shed some clothes; walking means sweating and his layers were not breathable. But he resisted, the bag looked pretty full, of something or other, and kind of heavy. He wondered whether he should offer to carry it, but figured Derek would only refuse. He was very intent on keeping its contents a secret. He settled for a question instead.

 

“So what does your mum think about you coming out at half past one with a stranger?” Stiles laughed, trying to keep his breath even and disguise the slight panting.

 

“You’re not a stranger Stiles” Derek replied earnestly, and the other boy turned to him a little more in surprise. He hadn’t expected the admittance, though he felt the same way. It had been such a short time, but the connection was instant and undeniable. Butterflies attacked his insides immediately.

 

“But my mum has no idea I’m out of bed” He laughed, but his smile fell a little after a second. “I don’t even know if she’ll be home yet.”

 

“What the hell?!” Stiles took his phone out of his pocket for a second to confirm that the time was in fact 1:48 in the morning. And couldn’t help but exclaim, “What would she be doing this late?”

 

Derek only tightened his lips in return, which prompted Stiles to state incredulously, “She’s not working is she?”

 

“You have no idea” Derek blew out a breath and his forehead crumpled as he frowned. Stiles felt the weight of his words, and didn’t care that it would bring the mood down when he asked,

 

“Derek?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

  
“It’s fine Stiles”

  
“I’m not just saying that” He insisted, “Looks like this hill is going to take us a while, and, we’re getting to know each other right? Like, I don’t want to push, but maybe it would be easier to tell me, since I don’t really know what’s going on. I find it’s easier to talk to someone you don’t know about stuff sometimes. But if it’s personal, that’s cool too”. He trailed off uncertainly. How much was okay to ask? How much was too much?

 

There was a moment of hesitation, or maybe it was shock that Stiles seemed to actually want to know, bother to take an interest, before he started to talk.

 

“I’m worried.” He expelled in a big breath. “It’s the new job; she’s going crazy trying to keep on top of everything. We barely even pass each other in the house anymore, since I spend my time and school and in my room, and she’s always working. If she’s not out all day at training or meetings, she’s shut up in her office at home getting more paperwork in every day than she can complete.” Derek paused to bring a hand across the bridge of his nose.

 

“Just before she knew she’d gotten the manager gig, we made a promise. No matter how busy we both get, how much work we have to do, we’d always come together for dinner. We managed at first, we only ever talked about work, and the team, and money, and football, and I scolded her for working herself into an early grave, but we were there. It didn’t last though. She started missing meals, only once or twice a week at first. A conference would run on into the evening, or they’d serve a buffet at a forum and she’d come in halfway through my dinner with apologies. It got more and more often, later and later, until she wouldn’t even be back by the time I’d gone to bed. I’m pretty sure she just grabs some chips on her way back now, nothing else is ever open by the time she’s done.

 

She doesn’t come in to my room to say goodnight and show me she’s home safely. I know anyway, because I hear the door. You know, there have been a few mornings where I’ve woken up to find her passed out on the sofa. Couldn’t even make it to bed. I’d take out a blanket for her, and sneak around so as not to disturb her while I got ready for school. She’d shout at me later for not waking her up, but I never apologised.” Derek finished, sniffing as he held his head up a bit more.

 

“But all of this does make it easy to sneak out of the house with half of my wardrobe and take the son of Stilinski, head of her greatest rival team, on a date” He joked half-heartedly, trying to detract from the emotion of his speech. Stiles ignored his jumping heart at the fact Derek had just confirmed this was a date, since there were more important topics being discussed, so he bit the inside of his cheek and thought about what to tell him. He had no idea what to suggest in the way of advice, so he settled for comfort instead,

 

“Whatever is going on with her, she’s lucky to have you thinking about her and looking out for her. Even if she doesn’t appreciate it right now.” He said carefully. He knew it wouldn’t really do much, but something needed to be said. People didn’t reveal that much at once unless they had been sitting on it for far too long, or they had no one else to go to. Stiles was honoured to be that person. He looked up at Derek while he said it. The direct eye contact coupled with a hand on the arm made them pause their walking for a second, and though Stiles couldn’t be sure because the only light source were the stars, he thought he saw Derek’s eyes shining and watery. He felt his fingers squeeze the jacket before he lowered his hand again.

 

They walked in silence for a few minutes. It was comfortable, but the mood wasn’t where Stiles was hoping it would be, so he decided to re-liven this thing up.

 

Reaching out an arm to catch Derek’s attention, without giving away too much that he was out of breath, he gestured to be passed the torch, then when he was given it, pointed it upwards to the top of the hill. They’d walked the majority of the distance, it just seemed that the steepest part of the journey was the little which remained. Fantastic. But his plan would still work.

 

He was satisfied to hear Derek’s attempt at disguising his panting too.

 

“A little out of breath there are we?” He grinned, nudging Derek. “If you found that hard, I’m sure you’ll love to know what I’m thinking…” He trailed off, smirking and waiting for a prompt.

 

Derek raised his eyebrow again, that was invitation enough. “Okay, I’m thinking we should liven this up a little.”

 

Stiles swung his torch around the ground in front of them, taking it in before Derek knew the plan so he might have the upper hand. He held it out as he finished his explanation.

 

“I’ll race you to the top.” He concluded, and thrust the light into Derek’s hands while he searched in his own pockets for his phone. A few taps and he had his own (admittedly much weaker) torch. It would only stretch a metre or two, but he’d gotten a good enough idea of a path from his initial assessment, and was still pretty confident despite the disadvantage.

 

“Ready? Three, two…”

 

“Wait!” Stiles turned his head to laugh at Derek’s confusion. But it wasn’t the troubled expression he expected, it was a smug one. “I can’t help feeling this isn’t fair on you.”

 

“Oh?” Stiles raised both eyebrows in question (that one he was able to do. It was very important for sarcasm purposes)

 

“I mean, I’ve been coming up here for years, I know my way around pretty well. Plus, I have a torch that I can actually see something with.” He said, casually flipping the torch in his hand. So damn cool.

 

“Oh yeah? Well, that pack is looking per-etty heavy mister, especially for someone without the tough sportsman physique and stamina that I so clearly possess.” Stiles quipped back patting his well-rounded stomach, bulked up by layers defeating his point a little, “So I wouldn’t be such a smartass if I were you.”

 

“Well, if you’re sure…”

 

Stiles looked him hard in the eye for a second before shouting, “READYSTEADYGO”

 

He had a hand on Derek’s chest to hold him back, but his plan was foiled as Derek fell back on purpose, moving to the right instead of straight up, as was Stiles’ plan. Maybe he had a path he normally took that was easier to walk on, but by the looks of it, it was certainly less direct. Besides, he would tire far before Stiles.

 

He held his phone close to the ground as he could to check for unexpected rocks, and checked behind him every so often for Derek, but he was too far to the side of him to look for very long before it became a probability that he was going to fall for not looking where he was going.

 

Glancing up, he could see the crest of the hill. One last push for speed. Derek was nowhere near, where he was going Stiles didn’t know, but he would save that conversation for when he’d won. The layers were weighing him down and heating him up, and he debated opening a zip or two, but his competitive streak won out, wanting to win before he thought about the basic human instinct of not boiling alive.

 

A few more strides.

 

He used his hands to drag himself up the rest of the very steep banking. He was breathing very heavily now, but he was so close. With a final burst of power he made it to the top of the mound, and let out a joyous woop despite his lack of oxygen. He quickly spun around to look for the torchlight that would lead him to Derek, but couldn’t find him when he looked back down the hill. So he looked to his right instead, and saw a light, moving slowly along a path, higher than where Stiles was.

 

It was light enough up here to be able to follow where the path was going to lead without a strong torch, and as he watched the trajectory, he realised he had not made it to the top at all. The mound he thought was the peak of the hill, was only an illusion from his lower perspective. Looking straight ahead of him, he could see that the hill continued even further, but he couldn’t continue, because the mound had disguised a sheer face of rock, ending higher than his head. The top was beyond the rock face. He now realised why Derek had taken a different path. It would be well out of his way to follow the rock around before he could get by it.

 

But Derek hadn’t yet reached the top, he was sauntering up the path, slow as he liked, cocky that Stiles would never make it in time.

 

He’d show him.

 

Taking a closer look at possible footholds and taking care to judge the height right, Stiles pocketed his phone, and stood as far away as possible. He’d only have one chance to win this race now. Cursing the limited movement of his attire, he decided he would be glorious victor, or make a fool of himself trying, and began to take long strides to the base of the rock. With an almighty push off the ground, he threw his arms over the top, while his feet scrabbled for a surface. His fingers managed to find a purchase in a crack through the rock surface, but his feet still dangled helplessly, and there wasn’t enough grip to pull himself over. Try as he might, he could only slump, gripping for all he could to stay on there, awaiting the inevitable embarrassment of facing his date from the floor.

 

The grip was painful to keep. His entire body weight was being supported through his fingers, and cold fingers at that. He couldn’t let go, it would take him too long to go all the way around. The only thing to be done was wait for Derek to help pull him up, but he was taking his sweet time.

 

Stiles finally heard him approach, and tried to look less pathetic, stuck in mid-air and slumped on the ground. He hadn’t been noticed, so he put aside the small amount of self respect he had left, and muttered,

 

“A little help here?”

 

The torch light snapped over to him, briefly blinding him before hearing a muttered curse.

 

“Shit Stiles, you tried to climb it?” Derek asked, shock laced in his tone, while closing the distance between them at a jog and falling to a crouch.

 

“Turns out parkour is not my thing” Stiles said sarcastically, making Derek chuckle. One of his hands was on Stiles’ arm, and the other was taking his hand, both getting ready to pull Stiles over. With a countdown, Stiles used Derek’s weight to haul himself over, stepping up the rock while Derek heaved to pull.

 

Even though he was over, the momentum carried him forward, while at the same time, the force of it meant Derek falling backwards. The both attempted to steady the other, and that, Stiles supposed, is how they ended up in each other’s arms, with barely centimetres between their faces.

 

They stood still, neither making the first move to back out of the embrace. This was the closest they’d ever been to each other. Out of breath, bulky from all the clothing layers, freezing faces and numb fingers, but exhilarated and together.

 

Derek’s hand was still wrapped around Stiles, with the other at the small of his back. Their soft giggles trailed away, and Stiles finally brought his gaze up to meet Derek’s. It was like looking at a 3D poster of a model. Even so close, the man was perfect. Not a beard-hair out of place. Lashes long enough to be mistaken for some kind of baby deer. Stiles had read somewhere that you were meant to try and register what the colour of a new acquaintance’s eyes were in order to establish an instant connection, and if that was true, then with the amount he was staring into Derek’s, they’d be married by the end of the week.

 

Stiles! He scolded himself. Not the time.

 

He wondered whether they were going to kiss.

 

Derek was leaning his head.

 

Oh God did he brush his teeth before he came out? No, of course he didn’t. What about mints?? Well, he couldn’t exactly pop a tic tac right now, might kill the mood a little while Derek waited for the mint to permeate his mouth. What if he was so repulsed by this first kiss that he completely ruined it?? Two minutes, that was all it would have taken to avoid this CATASTROPHIC thought spiral. Even a rinse of Listerine might have done the trick, was that too much to ask of past Stiles?

 

But present Stiles has created a whole new situation for himself, one where the amazing model man was now staring, confused.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Course he had to mess this up by zoning out. Now he bet he was just going to make more of a fool of himself by fumbling over his excuse or apology, whichever came out first, while Derek realizes the mistake he’s made.

 

But before he can pull away in embarrassment, Derek has brought a hand to the back of his head, pulling him close again, so his lips are brushing Stiles’ ear,

 

“Where are you going?” He whispered, the grin evident in just those four hushed words, “there is a reason I brought you all the way up here you know.”

 

And just before the next spiral of questioning began, Derek had covered Stiles’ eyes with his hands, and told him to stay with them closed. Against every aspect of his curious nature, Stiles stayed, while he heard the unzipping of the bag, and the rustling of an unknown material he was trying really hard not to guess at. He even turned around to avoid the almost overwhelming temptation to ruin the surprise, Derek had better appreciate his commitment.

 

It must have been two whole minutes he was stood like that. But just as he was starting the feel the chill again, Derek called from behind him,

 

“Alright, you can turn around now”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imma just take a moment to appreciate Teen Wolf's 'end', not that it'll ever really be over for all of us, but I don't think I've ever watched a show for that long and watched it end, and it was sad. Sadness done really well of course. And I was never expecting canon Sterek, but just to see our boys again made the last episodes complete. Now we can all just imagine / write / blog about their lives from now on and never be disproved by canon, so hooray! Keep creating. #sterekiseternal


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